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Maternal Love 


©ranslatcb front tlje German 


OF 




FRANZ HOFFMAN, 

✓ 


BY 


Rev. H. T. H. LEMCKE. 

* 


PHILADELPHIA: 


LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 

42 North Ninth Street. 

1870. 




*Vw^S^*V 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the 


LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 


In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States in and 
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers , Philada. 


Caxtoti Press of 

Sherman & Co., Philadelphia 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

LITTLE MADELON 9 

CHAPTER II. 

MATERNAL LOVE 29 

CHAPTER III. 

THE NEW HOME 64 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE PERFORMERS 84 

CHAPTER V. 

NEW TRIALS 111 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE BEGGAR BOY 134 

7 


8 


CONTENTS 


. CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 


A HAPPY MEETING 155 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE END 187 



Maternal Love. 


CHAPTER I. 

LITTLE MADE LON. 

HE day was just beginning to dawn 



A when the stage-coach from Strasburg 
came dashing into Paris. The inside passen- 
gers, roused from sleep, with the curiosity of 
strangers began to look out of the windows 
at the long rows of houses, as they passed 
rapidly through the streets. 

" So we are really in Paris,” said one of the 
passengers. “ Well, I am glad we can escape 
from this narrow box, for I am really stiff and 
exhausted by this long ride.” 

“ Ah, this is Paris 1” cheerfully exclaimed a 




10 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


delicate voice that sounded like a silver bell 
— “this is Paris! Oh how glad I am! I 
shall soon be at my uncle’s !” 

The passengers who had entered the coach 
during the night, looking round for the 
speaker, beheld, crowded into a corner of the 
stage, a charming little girl with bright and 
laughing eyes. There was something inter- 
esting about the child; so young, with its 
round face and ruddy cheeks, and its flaxen 
curls, which, though a little disheveled by 
the night travel, hung gracefully about its 
sunny face. 

“ Most charming little one ! A real angel !” 
said the passengers as they patted its rosy 
cheeks. “So young, and yet on a journey 
in the stage-coach! Are you alone, dear 
child?” 

“Yes, alone,” replied the girl, with quiet 
simplicity. “Mother brought me to the 
post-house in Strasburg, and the conductor 


LITTLE MADELON. 


1 1 


promised to take care of me and see me safely 
to Paris, and he has kept his word. Here I 
am, and I shall soon find my uncle !” 

The passengers entertained themselves in 
a pleasant and friendly manner with the little 
one until the coach entered the yard of the 
post-house. Here every one, concerned about 
his own business, ceased to notice the little 
girl. The conductor lifted her out of the 
coach, put her down on one side, where she 
would be safe from the throng of wagons 
passing in and out, and told her to wait until 
he had time to advise and help her further, 
for at that moment his hands were full of 
work. The little one promised to wait pa- 
tiently, and she remained quietly at her post, 
where there was everything to afford her 
entertainment. The spacious post-house yard 
was continually thronged with people passing 
to and fro ; passengers came and went, and 
the crowd and activity of the place increased 


12 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


as the day advanced. However, the little 
wanderer at last became impatient, and looked 
about anxiously for the conductor who on 
her journey had taken such an interest in her. 
At last he came hastening back with hurried 
steps. 

“ Quick, dear child !” he said; “ where have 
you your letter ? I have received orders to 
proceed this very moment to Lyons, and I 
have scarcely five minutes to spend with you. 
The letter ! the letter, dear little one ! I can- 
not take you myself to your uncle, but I will 
procure some responsible person to accom- 
pany you.” 

The little one put her hand into the pocket 
of her cloak, but withdrew it again with an 
anxious look. “ Oh, the letter ! Yesterday,” 
she said, “ it was still in this pocket, but now 
it is gone !” 

“ For heaven’s sake, little one, you surely 
have not been so unfortunate as to lose it !” 


LITTLE MADELON. 13 

exclaimed the conductor. “ Search your 
other pocket quickly !” 

The girl searched here, there, everywhere, 
but the letter did not make its appearance. 
“ It must have slipped from me,” she said, 
finally. “ Perhaps we may find it in the 
stage-coach.” 

“ Why the coach has long since returned 
to Strasburg !” exclaimed the conductor. 
“ Unfortunate child, what is now to be done ? 
Do you not know, at least, your uncle’s 
name ?” 

“I knew it,” replied the little one, thinking; 
“ but I do not recollect it now !” 

“ Well, this is a pretty affair !” exclaimed 
the conductor. “ Poor child, what are we to 
do in this case ? My time is up ! I must go, 
or I shall lose my situation and with it my 
living ; and here comes the coach ! Dear 
child, God help you ; I can stay no longer ! 
Think; and if you should recollect your uncle’s 


14 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


name, apply to the first kind person, and let 
him conduct you to your uncle. Willing as 
I am to assist you, I cannot do it. Here is 
the coach. God preserve you, little one! 
Try to recollect the name, and all may yet 
be well !” 

“ Oh, don’t leave me, conductor !” said the 
child, folding her little hands imploringly. 

“I must, my dear!” replied the conductor. 
“ Do you hear? the postilion is already sound- 
ing the horn and I must go. May God take 
you under his protecting care ! I can stay no 
longer!” He departed with hasty steps. 
“Poor child, poor child!” he muttered to 
himself. “ But I cannot help her. How 
careless to lose that letter!” With one 
leap he mounted the coach that was to con- 
vey him to Lyons. The postilion lashed 
the horses with his whip, and the coach 
started off at a rapid rate. The little girl, 
consternated at losing so suddenly her only 


LITTLE MADELON. 15 

friend, looked after him with a sad and 
wistful countenance. 

There stood the poor child, alone and help- 
less in the great city of Paris, surrounded by 
strangers who scarce gave her a passing 
notice. She did not know what to do. She 
sat down upon a stone bench, wrung her 
little hands, burst into tears, and sobbed as 
though her heart would break. Suddenly a 
bright idea seemed to strike the little girl. “ I 
will do that,” she said, wiping away her tears. 
“ I will return to Strasburg to my mother. 
So many coaches depart from here, and surely 
some one will take me along.” With a more 
cheerful face she looked about her, and 
sprang toward a post-house officer, whom 
she recognized by his uniform. 

“Dear sir,” she pleaded, “I should like 
very much to return to Strasburg; pray make 
the necessary arrangements for me.” 

“You want to go to Strasburg?” replied 


1 6 MATERNAL LOVE. 

the man, surprised. “You must be foolish, 
little one.” 

“ Oh no, I must go to Strasburg to mother ! 
Oh, please help me !” 

“ Then come,” said the man ; “ I will take 
you to the office, where you can have your- 
self registered. You have money, have you 
not?” 

“Yes, I have still two francs!” exclaimed 
the little one, joyfully, as she now began to 
hope. “ Two francs ! I do not need more 
for eating and drinking !” 

“ But, you foolish little thing, how do you 
intend to pay your fare to Strasburg?” ex- 
claimed the man, in astonishment. “ Have 
you really nothing more than these two 
francs ?” 

“No, nothing more! But, sir, I am so 
small the stage-coach will surely take me 
free of charge. I will crowd into one corner, 
or crawl under the seat, in order that I may 


LITTLE MADELON. 1/ 

again return to my mother. Pray, dear sir, 
let me ride with you !” 

“You are a little fool,” replied the man, 
roughly, and left her. The child was over- 
come with a feeling of desertion and loneli- 
ness, and again wept bitterly. 

“Why are you crying so?” said a harsh 
voice to the unfortunate, forsaken child. 

“ Oh dear ! I must go to Strasburg, and the 
stage-coach will not take me because I have 
no money!” sobbed the little one. “What 
am I to do ? I know no person in Paris, not 
even my uncle, whom I cannot find !” 

“Nonsense!” said the man. “You want 
to beg, that’s all. Away with you out of the 
post-house yard, or I will have you turned 
out !” As the poor little one made no effort 
to leave, the rude fellow took her by the arm, 
hurried her through the yard, and, unmoved 
by her tears and entreaties, unfeelingly cast 

her out upon the street. “Now don’t let 
2* B 


i8 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


yourself be seen here again !” he cried out, 
with a threatening gesture. “ If you come 
here again, you will be whipped !” 

Poor child! There she stood upon the 
street, not knowing where to look for a friend 
to pity or help her in this time of need. Far 
away from her mother, in the strange, great, 
cold, unfriendly city, where the unfortunate 
little one was so roughly treated, without 
money, without a friend, it was not surprising 
that her tears flowed faster and more bitterly 
than before, and that in utter sorrow she sank 
down in one corner, and, sobbing, hid her 
little face in her hands. And yet the poor 
child was unable to understand the extent of 
her hopeless condition. She only felt the 
desolation of being forsaken by the whole 
world, but what result might flow from it the 
poor girl knew not. She was really too 
young seriously to look into the future. The 
trouble of the present had overpowered her. 


LITTLE MADELON. 19 

And yet what sufferings were still in store for 
her, if no kind heart should take pity on her 
and shield her from the greater calamities 
that were impending ! 

What could the poor little thing do to ap- 
pease her hunger ? Where was she to find 
lodgings during the night? The autumn was 
far advanced and the nights rough and cold. 
Inexorable death was everywhere on the 
watch for the child, and her tender youth and 
inexperience were wholly unable to avert the 
impending perils. Perhaps in a few days she 
would be found dead in some hiding-place, 
or under the portals of a church, and then be 
laid in the stranger’s grave, and forgotten. 

There she sat crouched into a corner of the 
street, and hundreds, yea, thousands, of people 
passing by, with nothing more for her than a 
cold and hasty glance. What concern was 
the strange child to them ? Every one had 
to care for himself, and there was little time 


20 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


to look after the welfare of others. No help- 
ing hand was extended to the forsaken little 
one ; not even a word of sympathy or an in- 
quiry about her lonely sorrow. In the midst 
of a great city, amongst over a million of 
people, the child was left alone and forsaken 
in her misery, and, as it seemed, exposed to 
certain death. There was no help and no 
hope of deliverance except from God. But 
God does help where all human helpers fail, 
and his angels were near to deliver sooner 
even than she hoped. 

It was about the hour of noon when a 
comely, handsome lad of about fifteen or six- 
teen years came passing up the street. His 
clothing was miserable — wooden shoes upon 
his feet ; his old, worn-out jacket, like his wide 
linen pantaloons, had been patched in many 
places; an old worn-out cap covered his 
black curly hair, and his shirt collar, which 
was turned back over the collar of his jacket, 


LITTLE MADELON. 


21 


was not the finest linen ; but notwithstanding 
all this, the lad presented a goodly appear- 
ance, and his fine, manly face made one over- 
look his homely dress. He was pulling a 
small wagon behind him, to which was also 
harnessed a large dog. The wagon was 
loaded with coal, and whilst the lad cried out, 
with a clear voice: “Coal, coal — buy coal! 
Low price — excellent coal — the best and 
cheapest coal !” his dark, sparkling eyes 
glanced on every side, so as not to pass un- 
noticed a buyer who perchance might need 
his coal. Thus he came where the little girl 
sat crouched in the corner, weeping and 
lamenting in tones that might have touched a 
heart of stone, but, as it seems, had not thus 
far arrested the step of a single one of the 
hurrying crowd. But the young coal mer- 
chant, as he was passing, paused by the little 
girl and viewed her with looks of pity. 

“Poor little thing!” he muttered; “what 


22 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


can be the matter with her? Halloa, little 
one ! why are you crying ?” 

“Ah!” sighed the little girl, looking up, 
“ I am a stranger here, and would like to go 
to Strasburg to my mother, since I cannot 
find my uncle.” 

“You cannot find your uncle?” asked the 
lad. “ Now what is his name ? Tell me ; I 
will help you to find him.” 

“Yes, if I only knew it myself!” exclaimed 
the little one, and began to cry again. “ I 
forget the name, and mother’s letter has 
dropped out of my pocket.” 

“Ah, indeed! this is truly very unfortunate,” 
said the young coal dealer, advancing a step 
nearer to the little girl. “ Tell me, then, who 
you are. What is your name ?” 

“My name is Madelon, and my mother 
lives in Strasburg,” replied the child. “ Oh, 
if I only had not come to Paris, I would now 
be sitting with my dear mother !” 


LITTLE MADELON. 


23 

“Now come, little Madelon — that is a 
pretty name ; I like it. Now you see what is 
past cannot be changed, and I suppose your 
mother has sent you to Paris to pay your 
uncle a visit?” 

“Yes, indeed, you have guessed it!” an- 
swered Madelon. “It is just so. Mother 
wept and said she could no longer care for 
me, but uncle in Paris would surely take pity 
on me ; and then she wrote a long letter to 
uncle and gave it to me, weeping all the time ; 
then she sold a gold ring and went with me 
to the post-house and paid my fare, telling 
me to be sure and keep the letter carefully ; 
and then she kissed me — oh, so often and 
with so many tears ! — and I kissed mother 
also and wept until the stage-coach started. 
When I came, early this morning, to Paris, 
the letter was gone, and I know not what has 
become of it. Oh, I wish I had never let it 
go out of my hand !” The little Madelon 


24 MATERNAL LOVE. 

again burst into tears and hid her pretty- 
little face in her hands. 

As the lad viewed her with looks of ten- 
derness and pity, his eyes also filled with 
tears. He sat down beside Madelon, took 
her upon his knee, and kindly stroked her 
cheeks. 

“Poor child!” he said, with a soft voice. 
“ So small and delicate, and yet compelled to 
leave your mother. But be quiet, darling; 
we will find your uncle, even if the letter has 
been lost. We will write to Strasburg to 
your mother, and she will write back to us 
and send us a new letter for your uncle ; so be 
comforted. Meanwhile, you shall stay with 
me and my mother, and we will love you so 
dearly that you shall hardly miss your mother. 
How is it ? Will you go with me ?” 

“Ah, yes, a thousand times!” exclaimed 
the little Madelon, with a cheerful counte- 
nance, and wound her white and tender lit- 


LITTLE MADELON. 


25 


tie arm around the boy’s neck. “You are 
really as kind and friendly as if I were your 
sister.” 

“You shall indeed be my sister and look 
upon me as a brother,” replied the young 
coal merchant. “ Call me Pierre. That is 
my name, and my mother’s name is Mme. 
Thierry. And even if we are poor, and have 
to live sparingly, you shall at least have 
enough to eat and a bed where you can sleep 
at night. Poor little one! Motherless and 
lonely in Paris ! Dear me ! what might have 
become of you if I had hot found you? 
Come, my little darling ! Have you any bag- 
gage at the post-house ?” 

“Ah, no!” replied Madelon. “I have 
nothing at all except what I have on me. 
My dear mother is really so poor that she 
could not give me more, and in order to make 
me a little cloak, that I might not freeze on 

my journey, she cut up her last silk dress. 

3 


26 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


Oh, my mother is so good ! but she is very 
unhappy. Often have I seen her weep. Even 
at night, when I happen sometimes to wake, I 
have heard her mourn and pray to the dear 
Lord, that he might take me into his holy 
care and keeping. And you see, dear Pierre, 
how the prayer of my good mother has al- 
ready been answered. For the dear Lord has 
surely sent you to me, and if you had not 
come, I would likely have had to suffer still 
more. Oh how glad my mother will be 
when she learns how kind you have been to 
me !” 

“ It is no more than Christian duty,” replied 
Pierre ; “ and since I know that your mother 
is not rich, but poor like ourselves, I take 
you the more readily with me to our family. 
Do you see, Madelon, the poor must always 
assist each other, because the rich do not do 
it, or only seldom, since they do not know 
the bitterness of poverty ? And how should 


LITTLE MADELON. 2J 

they ? They live always in plenty and pleas- 
ure, and cannot know from experience how 
painful it is when one has scarcely a piece of 
bread in the house, and often knows not where 
to get food for the coming day. Yes, they 
do not know it, and therefore we should 
not blame them. But come, little Madelon ; 
dinner will probably be ready at home, and I 
suppose you have not tasted any food to- 
day.” 

“ No, ah no !” replied the little one. “ I 
have been weeping the whole morning, and 
never thought of eating. But now I am 
really hungry.” 

“ So I thought,” answered Pierre. “ Only 
have patience a little while. My mother, I 
know, has made a soup, and I have no doubt 
it will be sufficient to satisfy all three of us 
and my Boncceur, the good animal, also. 
Come, Madelon ! Come, little sister !” 

Madelon jumped up, and Pierre took off 


28 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


his jacket and spread it over the coal upon 
his wagon. 

“ Why do you do this ?” asked the little 
one. 

“That you may ride without soiling your 
pretty little cloak,” replied Pierre, laughing. 
“ We have yet a long way to our home, and 
the walking would set very hard on you ; so 
up with you and gently placing her upon 
his coal wagon, he seized the tongue, urged 
on his Boncceur, and. forward they went 
through the streets of Paris. Madelon 
laughed joyously upon her seat, and cast 
many a sweet glance upon her new friend 
Pierre, who oftener than usual turned his 
dark but handsome face toward the wagon. 
It was not, however, the coal that caused him 
to look back, but the little Madelon, whose 
sweet temper and confiding affection had won 
his heart. 



CHAPTER II. 

MATERNAL LOVE. 

' I ''HE tempest roared; heavy showers of 
rain poured from the heavens, and the 
highway was changed into deep and almost 
impassable mud. Men and beasts shunned 
the storm and kept themselves quiet in the 
house and the yard. Even the birds nestled 
under the shrubs and hedges, where the last 
brown leaves of autumn offered them some 
little protection from the storm. And the 
highroad which leads from Nancy through 
Chalons to Paris, usually full of life and bus- 
tle, was now deserted and lonely. 

A solitary woman was seen passing wearily 
along this road. Young and delicate, and 

3 * 29 



30 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


poorly clad, she seemed ill fitted to brave the 
beating rain of the autumnal storm. Her 
lovely face, so pale with sorrow, and the utter 
exhaustion that was manifested in every 
movement, awakened fear that she would 
soon sink under the hardships to be encoun- 
tered at every step. Already evening was at 
hand, and the sun, whose light had been ob- 
scured by the storm-cloud, would soon go 
down, and the next village where she could 
find shelter was still more than an hour’s 
journey distant. 

This lonely traveler was hardly dealt with 
by the driving winds and drenching rains and 
miry roads, so that often she would stand still 
and pant for breath. After a short respite, 
she again went on her way with a will and a 
purpose of endurance that are rarely exhib- 
ited in the hardiest and most vigorous men. 
There was something about this lady — some- 
thing in her delicate and graceful form, in her 


MATERNAL LOVE. 31 

expression and bearing, that told at once, 
notwithstanding her poor apparel, that she 
was a woman of noble birth. But how came 
she to this condition of beggarly dress and 
abandonment? What misfortune has urged 
her to such exposure of her delicate frame to 
the merciless storm ? Surely such a destiny 
was never dreamed of at her infant cradle as 
it rocked in some old castle. 

The lady traveled on, pausing and panting ; 
then starting afresh, compelling her reluctant 
limbs again and again to encounter the rig- 
ors of the storm, until she finally sank to 
her knees upon the ground, and could pro- 
ceed no farther. 

Despairingly she wrung her hands, and as 
tears rolled down her pallid cheeks, “O 
God!” she sighed; “I submit; I die! My 
child ! my dear child ! shall I never more see 
you again? Merciful God, have pity upon 
me ! Grant me power ; give me strength ! I 


32 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


must see my sweet child once more, to press 
her, though it be for the last time, to a mother’s 
heart ! O my God, have mercy upon me !” 

For a short time she remained kneeling 
upon the highway, her tears mingling with 
the falling rain and her hair floating in the 
storm. The poor, unhappy woman, trembling 
with weakness and cold, with great difficulty 
rose up again and walked, or rather staggered, 
on until she reached a solitary tree, when her 
almost breaking heart found relief in prayer. 

“ O my God and Saviour, let me see my 
child again ! let me press her once more to my 
bosom ! Oh forgive me for letting the dear 
little one depart from me ! Thou canst look 
into my heart ! Thou knowest how it bled 
when parting from her, my last and only 
treasure! that I desire only her happiness, 
and not mine own ! Thou knowest I thought 
only of her, not of myself! that it was 
night around and in me when I no longer 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


33 


beheld the light of her eyes ! Oh then help 
me, thou holy One, full of grace and pity! 
that I may see her once more before I die !” 

Thus prayed the desolate mother with 
pale and trembling lips, and then, exhausted, 
she leaned her head against the tree, her eyes 
closed, her arms feeble and helpless at her 
side, and a passing observer would scarcely 
have known whether it was the sleep of life 
or of death. The last sign of life she gave 
were these soft and whispered words : “ My 
child ! My child ! God protect thee !” Then 
all was still save the wind, that seemed to 
sigh through the branches, her slumbering 
song — perhaps, indeed, her requiem. The 
poor lady who slumbered here was the mother 
of the little Madelon in whom Pierre, the 
young coal merchant of Paris, had taken such 
a kindly interest. This mother had experi- 
enced sore trials, and, though young, had 

tasted the cup of affliction even to the bitter 

c 


34 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


dregs. Ah, little did she who sang her cradle 
hymns dream of such a fate for the child ! 
that some future day she should die upon the 
public highway, in the pitiless storm, for- 
saken and hopeless; that there ever would 
come a time when, in her utter desolation, 
the only comfort left would be the conscious- 
ness that by no willful act of hers had this 
calamity fallen upon her. Her childhood was 
happy. No cloud obscured the morning of 
her life. Count Saint Foix, her father, loved 
her with a tenderness that belongs to an only 
child. The mother spread both hands pro- 
tectingl'y over Marion, the darling, and her 
early years were environed with all the ele- 
gance and pleasure that riches could procure. 
Then came the reign of terror of the French 
Revolution, and with it the days of sorrow and 
suffering for the hitherto happy child. Her 
parents were dragged to the guillotine — the 
doom of rank and title — and beheaded, and 


MATERNAL LOVE. 35 

she, but for her tender years, would have 
shared a similar fate. 

Poor Marion, at the age of four left alone 
in the world, without the gentle care of pa- 
rental love, would have begun at once her 
after-life of suffering but for the kindly inter- 
ference of a house-servant. As soon as the 
good Jeanette, the former nurse of the child, 
heard of the calamity, she hastened to the 
palace of her parents. She arrived just in 
time to take the child under her special care. 
The palace was already full of bustling ser- 
geants of the court, who were confiscating the 
property by authority of the rulers of the 
government, when Jeanette entered it pale and 
breathless. She called to her the child they 
were about to cast into the street with heart- 
less unconcern of her tender youth or help- 
lessness. The little Marion flew into the arms 
of her loving nurse, and, weeping, leaned her 
head on that faithful heart. Jeanette pressed 


3 6 MATERNAL LOVE. 

her tenderly to her bosom and besought the 
sergeants to entrust the child to her care. 
Not only was this granted, but at the sugges- 
tion of a noble young officer, she was allowed 
to take with her the most valuable articles of 
clothing for the little one. A happy idea 
flashed through the mind of the good nurse. 
She knew, from observation in former days, 
where Count Saint Foix and his wife kept 
their most valuable jewels. If she could 
secure these, the little Marion would still be 
rich, for the jewels were of great value. 
Taking the child in her arms, she hastened 
through the many apartments of the palace 
until she came to the remotest chamber, 
which the robbers had not yet reached. Here 
was the chest that contained the jewels. 
She found it locked, but this did not dis- 
courage her. With the help of an axe, which 
she speedily procured, she forced open the 
well-secured lid of the chest. Her affection- 


MATERNAL LOVE. 37 

ate fondness for the little child seemed to 
inspire her with the needful strength. Here 
stood the casket of jewels, and beside it a 
little box containing important papers. She 
seized both, hid them in her garments, 
snatched up a parcel of Marion’s clothes, and 
left the palace without interruption. The 
child was rescued, and with her at least a part 
of her rightful possessions. The good Jeanette 
already deemed her treasures in perfect safety, 
when, upon her return to her residence, which 
was in one of the suburbs of Paris, at some 
distance from the palace, she happened to get 
into a very large throng of people that had 
been collected by one of the daily-occurring 
executions. Before she could turn aside, she 
beheld herself surrounded by a crowd of rag- 
ged, wild-looking men and women. Marion’s 
clothes, which Jeanette carried in her arms, 
attracted the greedy rabble. They sought 

to snatch them from her, but Jeanette offered 
4 


38 MATERNAL LOVE. 

resistance. Suddenly several frantic fellows 
seized hold of her and knocked her down ; 
others thronged about her, and her clothes 
were literally torn into fragments. When 
she recovered from the swoon into which 
she had been thrown by the rabble, she 
looked in vain for little Marion, who it seems 
had been jostled from her side and lost in 
the general tumult. Her despairing call for 
the child died away unanswered. Jeanette, 
however, felt some comfort in her sorrow 
when she found that the little box of jewels 
and the important papers had not been dis- 
covered by the ruffians. With grief and tears 
she carried them to her house, locked them 
up carefully, and resolved to preserve them 
for Marion, whom she confidently expected 
to see again. After the lapse of years with 
no tidings of the child, she still cherished the 
hope of her return, and accordingly the little 
boxes, with their treasures, were sacredly 


MATERNAL LOVE. 39 

kept in their old places. Jeanette did not 
touch them ; she did not take the smallest of 
the sparkling jewels, though she had, in the 
course of time, not unfrequently to contend 
with poverty and dire necessity. To her the 
treasures were as if they were not. They 
belonged to the little Marion, the child of 
her former master and mistress, and as soon 
as Marion returned, she should receive her 
property safe and undiminished from the 
hands of her faithful nurse. This was her 
resolution, which no consideration could 
change. 

But what had meanwhile become of little 
Marion, when the tumult arose around her 
nurse ? Who protected the child against the 
violence of the crowd ? Again it was a faith- 
ful house-servant, who, in the past, had re- 
ceived many favors from the noble Count 
Saint Foix, and now saw an opportunity of 
requiting the benefits received by rescuing 


40 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


the helpless child. He took the child, stray- 
ing through the streets, to the country, where 
he had lately rented a small place and mar- 
ried a worthy woman. In a few words he 
told her how he had found the child, and the 
good-hearted Ninette readily took her into 
the house. It is true, the little Marion was 
deprived here of many things which she had 
enjoyed in her parental home, but she found 
at least true hearts who wished her well and 
did not allow the orphan to feel 'that she was 
a stranger in the family of Antoine. She 
grew fast, to the great delight of her foster- 
parents, who appeared gradually to forget 
that Marion was not their own child, until a 
circumstance occurred which suddenly called 
the past to their remembrance. A squadron 
of hussars, who were upon the march to 
Spain, were to have a day of rest at the 
village where Antoine resided, and the com- 
manding officer was quartered with him. The 


MATERNAL LOVE. 41 

pretty little Marion, who showed no rusticity 
either in her outward appearance or in her 
deportment, attracted the officer’s attention. 
He asked whether Marion was their own 
child, and Antoine told him the facts concern- 
ing the little girl. The officer — a young and 
prepossessing man — manifested deep emotion 
during the recital, but controlled himself 
until Antoine had ended. Then rising 
quickly, he embraced the honest man and 
said : “ Antoine, how can I thank you ? 

Marion is my niece, the daughter of my 
sister, who was married to Count Saint Foix, 
and I am Count Louis Narbonne ! Marion, 
dear child, come to my arms; I am your 
uncle !” 

That was a surprise. Antoine knew full 
well that there were still some relatives of 
the Countess Saint Foix living, but he neither 
knew their names nor whether they had es- 
caped the fearful storms of the Revolution. 


42 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


Dearly as he and his wife loved the little 
Marion, reluctant as they were to lose the 
loving, pretty child, the good foster-parents 
nevertheless agreed to give her up. Count 
Narbonne insisted that Marion should be 
taken to Paris and educated according to her 
rank and station. He owed this to the mem- 
ory of his dear, unhappy sister and he could 
care much better for the future welfare of the 
child than the good Antoine who had to pro- 
vide for his own family, which had gradually 
become numerous. Antoine understood this, 
and the next morning he took Marion to 
Paris, with a letter which Count Narbonne 
had written to his wife, to deliver the little 
one into the hands of her aunt residing there. 

Thus Marion returned to Paris and to her 
relations. The honest Antoine thought that 
this would be conducive to her happiness, but 
perhaps it would have been better if she had 
never left the humble cottage of her foster- 


MATERNAL LOVE. 43 

parents. It is true, she found in the house 
of her aunt an affectionate reception, and 
neither the Countess Narbonne nor her hus- 
band, who a year after returned from Spain, 
was wanting in every kindly attention of 
sympathy and affection ; but this very affec- 
tion of her relations became afterward the 
principal cause of Marion’s misery. Count 
Narbonne was not what might be called 
wealthy. He desired to ensure her future 
welfare,- and therefore arranged her marriage, 
while very young, to a collateral relation of 
his family — the rich Count Brissot — whose 
character, it seems, he had but partially 
known. Marion was made very miserable by 
this marriage. Count Brissot was a rough, 
dissolute man, who concealed his bad quali- 
ties from the world under the mask of hypoc- 
risy, but secretly practiced the most abom- 
inable vices. He did not in the least concern 
himself about his wife and Madelon, his little 


44 MATERNAL LOVE. 

daughter. He squandered his riches in dis- 
sipation, and turned a deaf ear alike to the 
tears and entreaties of Marion. He at last 
defrauded Count Narbonne — his relative, the 
benefactor of his wife — of a large sum of 
money, and then fled secretly, with Marion 
and his child, from Paris to Germany. 
Marion of course did not know that her hus- 
band had become a defaulter, as Count Bris- 
sot took good care not to tell her, as he well 
knew her noble and honorable character. 
But Count Narbonne was led to regard her 
as the accomplice of her husband ; because, 
as he reasoned, if innocent, instead of going 
off with the defrauder, she would certainly 
have returned to him with her child. Hence 
he treated her with contempt, and when, one 
day, he received a letter from Marion, he did 
not so much as read it, but cast it into the 
fire without any further notice. 

The unhappy Marion had meanwhile fared 


MATERNAL LOVE. 45 

miserably. She had scarcely arrived in Ger- 
many with her husband before he became 
involved with an officer in a gambling brawl, 
which resulted in a duel with pistols. Count 
Brissot was killed in this encounter, and 
Marion, with the startling intelligence of his 
death, learned also that he had lost in gam- 
bling, on the previous evening, his entire for- 
tune, and that now she and her child were 
left in a strange land poor and friendless. It 
was a heavy affliction for the unfortunate 
mother; but love for her child — the little 
Madelon — inspired her with strength and 
self-reliance to endure what was inevitable, 
and to rescue at least some fragments from 
the wreck of her life’s happiness. A few 
rings and other articles of ornament were still 
in her possession. She turned them into 
money, repaired with her daughter to Stras- 
burg, and there wrote to her uncle the letter 
which, as already stated, he did not read, but 


46 MATERNAL LOVE. 

committed at once to the flames. Marion, 
meanwhile, waited with painful anxiety for an 
answer, for sympathy and help in her desolate 
condition. She wrote again, but no answer 
came. In agony of mind, she wrote the third 
and fourth time. Finally a sign of life ap- 
peared. With a trembling hand she opened 
the letter, and with a dim eye and an almost 
breaking heart she read these few lines : 

“ Ungrateful one, forbear writing to me ! 
Never will I condescend to read your letters ! 
You have merited nothing, and can never 
expect anything from me, but the deepest 
scorn. Every attempt to change this undying 
feeling will only sink you the deeper in my 
contempt ! Narbonne.” 

Poor Marion ! She had not expected this. 
She was certainly innocent and unconscious 
of any sin against her stern and inexorable 
uncle. How could she be responsible for the 
fact that her husband had been a bad, detest- 


MATERNAL LOVE. 47 

able man ? And here too was the little 
Madelon ! Of what had she been guilty — 
the poor innocent child? Surely the uncle 
could not justify himself in withdrawing his 
hand from her — the sweet little girl ! 

Marion found herself in a deplorable condi- 
tion. The trifling sum of money which she 
possessed was daily diminishing ; it was not 
difficult to calculate when the last franc, the 
last sou, would be paid out, and she was be- 
ginning to yield to utter despondency. Then 
her glance fell upon the little Madelon, her 
dear child. The pulses of her maternal love 
throbbed with intense life as she folded Made- 
lon in her arms, pressed her long and tenderly 
to her bosom, and whispered, with falling 
tears : “ My dear child, you shall never want, 
though to preserve you I should have to 
labor day and night !” Maternal love infused 
new life and energy into her dejected spirits. 
Marion was proficient in many little female 


48 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


accomplishments, and she turned everything 
to this one aim, to support her child. She 
sewed, embroidered, painted — as she prom- 
ised — day and night. She allowed herself 
only a few hours of sleep. At midnight she 
retired to rest, and the rising sun found her 
again at her work. By the most untiring 
industry she earned at least as much as kept 
her child from want, and beyond this she had 
but little concern. Thus a year of care and 
sorrow and sleepless nights passed almost 
quickly and without complaint from Marion, 
the faithful mother. But sorer trials awaited 
that mother in prolonged and disabling sick- 
ness. For weeks Marion was unable to work, 
and the small earnings which she had laid up 
soon disappeared. She recovered, it is true, 
but she was poorer than ever, and the anxious 
care for the future welfare of the child pressed 
heavily upon her heart. What if she had 
sunk under the recent illness and died ! Who 


MATERNAL LOVE. 49 

would have cared for little Madelon ? Who 
would have taken the poor orphan child and 
preserved her from hunger? And if there 
should be a return of her sickness, which, 
from her anxious toils and sleepless nights, 
was more than likely, it would surely be her 
last, and what would become of her child ? 
Her maternal heart was haunted with this 
thought, and trembled at the bare possibility 
of the future. “ O God, the child, the child 
must be saved from such a terrible calamity !” 
But how ? She thought of her uncle, Count 
Narbonne, and a glimpse of hope flashed like 
lightning through her dark and troubled 
heart. “ Yes,” she said, “I must separate 
myself from the sweet little one ! I must 
send her to Paris ! I must commit her to 
the magnanimity of the count! The count 
only hates and despises me ! The innocent 
child he neither will nor can despise ; nor 

will he disown her, for she is his grand-niece, 
5 D 


50 MATERNAL LOVE. 

his nearest relative. True, it will wellnigh 
break my heart to be separated from my 
Madelon, from my sweet, beloved child, from 
my only comfort ; but God’s will be done. I 
will endure all — hunger and sorrow, suffering 
and privations — if only the little one be no 
longer exposed to the rough storms of life. 
Yes, it shall be done ! I will bear the separa- 
tion, and Narbonne will receive her, and 
Madelon will be happy, and will forget me — 
me, her mother, who love her more than 
life ! And I — well, I will soon die of grief, 
and God, for Jesus’ sake, will have mercy 
upon me and take me to himself in his heav- 
enly kingdom ! Of what consequence am I, 
if only it be well with the child?” Thus 
spoke the faithful mother, in anguish and 
tears, and true to her words, she never fal- 
tered in her purpose. By toil and self-denial 
she gathered as much money as would pay 
Madelon’s fare in the stage-coach to Paris. 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


51 


She gave all to her child, and kept nothing 
for herself save her tender maternal love and 
the pain of parting. She accompanied Made- 
Ion to the post-house, lifted her, with her 
own trembling hands, into the coach, and 
then besought the conductor to take a kindly 
interest in the helpless little traveler. She 
sent with the child a letter to Count Nar- 
bonne. In it she described her misery in 
most eloquent and touching words. She 
thought, surely when the count reads this 
letter he cannot turn Madelon away, unless 
his heart is turned to stone. And thus 
Madelon drove away, and it seemed to her 
mother as if the wheels of the coach rolled 
over her heart and crushed it. With eyes 
dimmed by tears, she looked after the coach 
until it disappeared in the distance. Then, 
with a heavy heart, she returned to her home; 
and as she sat in the lonely chamber and 
thought of her dear little angel, gone and 


52 MATERNAL LOVE. 

never to return, she wept aloud and sank 
upon her knees, and for hours struggled in 
the deepest agony of grief. She prayed to 
God, from her inmost heart, that the Father 
of all mercies would protect her child and 
bestow his blessings upon her. Only her 
child ! For herself the faithful mother asked 
nothing but grace to bear her sorrow with 
meekness and submission. She was willing 
to bear without a murmur her many afflic- 
tions, if only the light of prosperity would 
shine upon the path of her child. Then 
everything would be well ; then she could die, 
even if alone and without the comfort of a 
last look upon her beloved child. 

Several days passed away. The poor 
mother knew that her life was ebbing forth 
with her tears ; yet she repented not of what 
she had done ; she desired not to undo the 
sacrifice which she had made for her child, 
though that sacrifice should be nothing less 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


53 


than her life. But suddenly a happy thought, 
like a new inspiration of life, made her tearful 
eyes sparkle with joy. She leaped up, and 
with hasty steps walked up and down her 
little chamber; her pale cheek flushed, her 
mouth smiled again. “O God!” she ex- 
claimed, “this suggestion comes from thee, 
from thee ! Yes, that I will do ! I will go to 
Paris ; I will follow my child ! Paris is large 
and wealthy ; there also I can work. I will 
perform the most menial services. If I can 
only see her, only once a day ! ah, only once 
in a week, and at a distance, at the window ; 
only see, see ! I will not press her to my 
heart, lest I should offend the cruel and ca- 
pricious uncle; only see my dear Madelon, 
my child ; then, with her sweet image in my 
heart, go to my daily work ! God will grant 
me the strength ! The sight only of my 
child will give me strength! Yes! Away, 
away to Paris — to her, to my child !” 

5 * 


54 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


But the good and loving mother could not, 
like Madelon, hasten in a coach to Paris, be- 
cause she had really given everything she 
had to the child, even her last dress. But 
this did not deter the mother. She had 
courage ; she could walk — travel the weary 
miles on foot. She could hunger, thirst and 
even beg, if need be. Of what concern were 
all things else to her if she could only see her 
child ! If only at a distance, as one sees the 
sun, or the stars in the dark night-sky. Under 
the impulse of this love she went. Yes, she 
went and forgot the weakness of her recent 
sickness, from which she had barely recov- 
ered, and only thought of her child that she 
loved so dearly. Oh how she longed for a 
glance at her clear blue eyes ; her rosy little 
mouth, which could smile so sweetly; her 
flaxen hair, whose golden curls hung around 
her head like a sacred halo ! On her journey 
the little Madelon was ever before her, and 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


55 


she seemed to see nothing but her child. 
The people, the towns, the villages, the for- 
ests, the streams, all glided by her like shad- 
ows. Wearily she journeyed on from place 
to place, and everywhere the people, when 
they met the soft glances of her beautiful 
eyes, yielded her prompt and kindly sympa- 
thy. Thus she arrived at the place beyond 
Nancy, where she was overtaken by the 
storm. For a while her maternal love pre- 
vailed against the rain and the tempest ; but 
finally her powers of endurance failed, and she 
lay exhausted and fainting under the tree on 
the public road. The shadows of evening 
were falling, and if no relief should come to 
the lonely sufferer, the approaching night 
would prove the end alike of the loving 
mother and her sufferings. 

But heaven had not ordained so tragical 
an end to the mother’s love. There came 
slowly along the highway a large covered 


56 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


wagon. Two small horses drew the wagon 
heavily along the muddy road, and neither 
the whip nor the call of the driver could 
hasten their tardy steps. As the wagon ap- 
proached the lonely tree it suddenly stopped. 

“What is the matter now, Florentine?” 
sounded a loud call out of the wagon, in 
which various voices were mingled in strange 
singing, jesting and laughing. “ Quiet, chil- 
dren! Florentine, why do you halt in the 
middle of the public road? It certainly is 
not such delightful weather that we should 
regard our journey as a pleasure trip !” 

“Ah, Mr. Director,” replied the driver, 
“ only please look there at the trunk of the 
tree ! The poor lady appears to be nearly 
dead, if not dead already !” 

“Where, where?” exclaimed voices from 
the wagon, as ten or twelve heads looked out 
from under the cover. “ Ah, yes ; the poor 
lady! Quick, Florentine, down from the 


MATERNAL LOVE. 57 

wagon ! Look after her, and if there is still 
life in her, we must take her along !” 

Florentine immediately sprang from his 
seat and waded through the mud to the tree. 

“Dear me!” he exclaimed — “the poor 
creature, so lightly clad, not a dry stitch on 
her ; but she is still living ! How she shivers 
with cold! Quick, children; bring a little 
wine !” 

A sprightly young girl, careless of the 
mud, soon came with a flask of wine. “ Ah, 
how pale the poor thing is !” she exclaimed, 
looking at Marion with pity, “ and yet how 
lovely ! Children, we must take her with us. 
Quick ! Make a comfortable seat ready in 
the wagon, and wrap her in my cloak. Hand 
me the flask, Florentine. Be careful ; you 
are pouring the wine on her dress ! Hand it 
here, quick !” 

“Well, well, Mademoiselle Louise, every 
one does the best he can,” replied the horse- 


58 MATERNAL LOVE. 

tamer. “ She does not open her mouth, and 
so the wine has to flow beside it.” 

“Ah, you do not understand it, simple 
boy !” said Mademoiselle Louise, rather 
sharply, and she took the flask from him. 
She poured several drops into her hand and 
rubbed it upon the temples of the fainting 
woman. In a few minutes Marion came to, 
opened her eyes, and cast a bewildered look 
about her. 

“Be quiet; do not worry yourself, good 
lady,” said Mademoiselle Louise, softly and 
affectionately. “ We will not harm you. 
There ! take a little sip of wine ; it will warm 
and refresh you. So, so ! Now you will 
soon feel better !” 

“Yes, yes; I must proceed; I must go 
farther; I must see my child!” muttered 
Marion, still half senseless. “ I thank you, 
dear girl, but do let me go; I must go to 
Paris, to my Madelon !” 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


59 

“ Certainly we will not keep you back,” 
replied Louise; “ but we are going to Chalons, 
which is on your road, and will give you a 
place in our wagon. On foot you cannot 
travel, poor little creature, you are too weak ! 
Come, it is dry in the wagon, and if you wrap 
yourself in my cloak and lean on me, you 
will feel better.” 

Gradually Marion understood her situa- 
tion ; her dull eyes grew bright, and she tried 
to raise herself up. Florentine and Louise 
hastened to her assistance. 

“Will you take me with you to Chalons 
in your wagon, good people ?” inquired Mar- 
ion. “Oh how good and kind you are! 
How I thank you ! Now I shall see my 
dear child once more! I feared I should 
never see her again till I met her in heaven. 
I could go no farther ; my limbs failed me, 
and I sank down and thought I was dying. 
And now — ” 


6o 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ Now you shall return to life,” interrupted 
Louise, “ and you will, by the help of God, 
find again the child for whom you long! 
Come, follow me ; it is dry and warm in the 
wagon, and we will care for you.” She 
clasped the weak Marion gently in her 
arms, and, with the assistance of Florentine, 
Marion was placed in the best seat in the tilt- 
wagon, and not only Louise, but all the rest 
of the people in the wagon, tried to revive 
her exhausted body. Cloak, handkerchiefs, 
shoes and refreshments were offered to her ; 
Louise warmed her numbed hands with her 
breath ; others wrapped her cold feet in old 
felt, and Marion — the poor Marion — was 
happy in receiving the kind attention and 
sympathy of which she had been so long de- 
prived. 

“ Who, then, are you, good people ?” she 
said, when she had recovered a little from her 
exhaustion and felt a new life and warmth in 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


6 1 


her chilled limbs. “You are surely angels 
of heaven, to interest yourself so kindly in 
me !” 

“ Pretty angels, indeed !” replied the cheer- 
ful Louise, laughing and warmly pressing 
Marion’s hands ; “ we are strolling show- 
people, good woman ; we intend to hold an 
exhibition in Chalons, to see whether the 
people there will be enough pleased to bestow 
a few francs upon us. But there is little hope 
of success. Our best performer has left us 
and gone to Paris. She was so pretty — al- 
most as pretty as you, dear lady — and the 
people came to our exhibition mostly on her 
account. Would that she were yet with us, 
the ungrateful Fleurette ! But no ; I dare not 
say so ; she is right, because in Paris she 
earns more money than with us, and since 
she has to care for a poor mother, one cannot 
blame her for accepting a better situation. I 

only desire that the loss which we have sus- 
6 


62 MATERNAL LOVE. 

tained by her leaving us may be in some way 
made up to us. Is it not so, M. Lemaire ?” 

“ Ah, true ; true, indeed !” replied M. Le- 
maire, the director of the little show-company, 
with an audible sigh. “ Fleurette was a jewel 
to us ! But do not be discouraged, Louise. 
Heaven has helped us in the past, and will 
not forsake us in the future. You perform 
tolerably well, and in a few years — well, we 
shall see !” 

“ Yes, if I were pretty!” responded Louise, 
laughing ; “ but I am only lively, and that is 
not sufficient. The people always desire to 
see something attractive in a performer. 
Well, no matter, Father Lemaire ; we must 
all do our best, and then we shall, it is to be 
hoped, earn at least a living. But look; 
yonder already are the lights of the village 
where we expect to spend the night ! Cheer 
up, poor little lady ; you will soon retire to 
rest, and I will see that you have the very 


MATERNAL LOVE. 63 

best bed in the hotel. We are not so very 
tired, and could, if need be, rest upon a 
bed of straw; but you, poor little creature, 
have been exposed all day to the rain and 
storm. First of all you must be cared for; 
must she not, Father Lemaire ?” 

“ Certainly, you little tattler,” responded 
the director, in a deep bass voice. “ Drive 
on, Florentine ; we will all be glad when we 
can go to rest.” 

Florentine urged the horses forward, the 
wagon rattled into the village, stopped at the 
hotel, and the company alighted. First 
Florentine, then Father Lemaire and his 
wife, then their seven children, ranging in 
age from twelve to twenty-four years, and 
finally Louise with Marion. Marion was the 
first in bed, and Louise, true to her word, 
arranged that the warmest and softest bed 
should be given to her, and thus favored, she 
slept sweetly all night. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE NEW HOME. 

ITTLE Madelon, in Paris, had not the 



J ' least idea of all that we have narrated 
in the preceding chapter. She fared very 
well in the city, as Pierre and his mother — 
Mme. Thierry — had already become as fond 
of the little girl, whom a strange providence 
led to them, as if -she had been with them for 
years. Madelon, however, was herself so 
gentle and affectionate that she would have 
gained much harder hearts than theirs. It 
was not strange that they became fond of the 
poor, helpless child, who had, as it were, 
fallen from heaven into Paris. When Pierre 
came home at night from his wanderings 


64 



THE NEW HOME. 


65 


through the city, he always brought the little 
Madelon some gift, to procure which he de- 
nied himself to surprise the little girl. Mme. 
Thierry also took such good care of her that 
she hardly missed her mother. Mme. Thierry 
often watched the little one with a puzzled 
air, rubbing her forehead as if she were re- 
calling long-forgotten memories, and then she 
would mutter to herself: “Wonderful, won- 
derful ! The child reminds me strangely of 
the past ! It seems to me as if I had heard 
her clear, silvery laugh and seen her sweet 
smile before ; but no, this cannot be ! Chil- 
dren all look alike, and this is only fancy 
and then she would again ask the little one 
the name of her mother, and she would reply, 
as before : “ She is called mother and Mme. 
Brissot.” And she would not say more, as 
this was all she knew. Pierre, on the day 
after he had brought Madelon to his mother’s, 

had written to Strasburg to Mme. Brissot, to 
6 * E 


66 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


give the mother of the child some intelligence 
of her fate, and to ask her for another letter 
addressed to the uncle of the little one. But 
he of course received no answer, since, as we 
know, Madelon’s mother, after the departure 
of the little one, had herself left Strasburg for 
Paris. Pierre waited many days for a letter, 
but day after day passed by and nothing was 
heard of Madelon’s mother. 

“ That is a bad sign,” said Pierre, one day, 
to Mme. Thierry, while Madelon was out 
playing in the street. “ If only no misfortune 
has befallen the poor lady ! Perhaps she may 
have died of grief, as, judging from all Made- 
Ion has told us, she must have loved her 
child dearly.” 

“ She certainly did that,” replied Mme. 
Thierry; “but we must not fear the worst. 
The poor lady may be only sick, or our letter 
may have been lost or come into other hands, 
as there may be more than one Madame 


THE NEW HOME. 67 

Brissot. In short, there may be many causes 
of her silence besides that of death. In his 
own time, God will solve the mystery.” 

“Yes, dear mother,” replied Pierre, with a 
sorrowful countenance, “that would all be 
well enough ; but only think ! if we should 
receive no intelligence, we cannot take Made- 
Ion to her uncle.” 

“ Well, yes, and what more ?” asked Mme. 
Thierry. 

“What more, mother? Well, you know 
very well that the coal trade will soon decline, 
as nearly all the people have laid in their 
supply for the winter, and then there will be 
scanty fare, and the winter is coming, in 
which we use more money than in summer; 
and what will then become of Madelon, 
mother ?” 

“ Well, what will become of her ?” replied 
Mme. Thierry. “ What will become of her? 
Here she shall remain with us, and share 


68 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


with us what we have — that is certain, fool- 
ish boy r 

“ But when we have nothing more to share, 
dear mother?” asked Pierre. “You know 
last winter it once happened that there was 
no bread in the house.” 

“Yes,” said Mme. Thierry; “what are you 
going to prove by that, my son ? Did not 
God help us at that time, and provide a situa- 
tion in M. Bedos’ factory ?” 

“Exactly so; but I went to the factory 
yesterday to see if I could obtain my old 
position, and I was told that M. Bedos had 
sold the factory, and that the new owner had 
hands in abundance. Yes, mother, heaven 
has helped us in the past, but we must not be 
too confident of the future.” 

“ Nonsense, my son ! Heaven always 
helps honest people. If you find no work 
there, you will find it somewhere else !” re- 


THE NEW HOME. 69 

plied Mme. Thierry. “You must not cross 
me, boy. Madelon shall remain with uS, and 
share with us prosperity and adversity. You 
surely do not intend to cast her upon the 
street ?” 

" God forbid !” exclaimed Pierre ; and, clap- 
ping his hands, he continued: “You see, 
mother, I only wanted to hear your opinion 
and what you thought of the matter. I am 
glad that your views are the same as mine, and 
that Madelon is no less dear to you than to 
me. Nor is my anxiety as great as I pretend. 
While God preserves my life and health, I 
can work, and whoever wants work can find 
it. It is true, if I was taken sick things 
would look badly ; but then — Well, mother, 
the casket with the jewels stands idly in the 
cupboard, and you know in case of necessity 
there remains this last resource, to sell some 
of the precious stones ; and if the owner 
should appear, which I do not fear, she will 


70 MATERNAL LOVE. 

not blame us for using in extreme necessity 
extreme measures.” 

“ That is folly, my son,” said the mother, 
quietly and decisively, after long thought. 
“ You well know that I would rather cut off 
my hand than take the smallest jewel out of 
the casket. It is not that which makes me 
thoughtful ; but when I recall the picture of 
the little Marion, as she was when the cruel 
people butchered her father and mother, and 
I saved her with much difficulty from the 
palace, the little Madelon seems to look ex- 
actly like her. But it cannot be possible ! 
Marion would certainly have remembered 
me. She knew that I rescued the jewels, but 
then she was so small that she knew not the 
value of the casket, and took no notice of it. 
But perhaps she is still living, and Heaven 
may some time lead her to the arms of her 
faithful nurse, Jeanette, as the sweet child 
used to call me. If Madelon should really be 


THE NEW HOME. 71 

Marion’s daughter, then the use of the treas- 
ure would be justifiable. But how can that 
be possible? Marion had black curls and 
brown eyes ; Madelon has flaxen curls and 
blue eyes. But why trouble myself with 
these foolish fancies? No one knows who 
Madelon’s mother is ! I will never think of 
it again !” 

“ Time will show a way, mother,” said 
Pierre. “ Whoever Madelon may be, we will 
both love her as if she were my sister ; will 
we not, dear mother ?” 

“ Indeed we will !” replied Mme. Thierry. 
“ Whoever is her mother, she is a dear, good 
child, whom God himself has sent to us, that 
we may take care of her !” 

Thus it was settled that Madelon should 
be just as a child of their family, and she 
really did share the love of a child. Quietly 
and contentedly the little family lived to- 
gether, until an event occurred that suddenly 


72 MATERNAL LOVE. 

brought great distress upon Pierre and his 
mother. 

One day Pierre came home with his coal 
wagon earlier than usual, and entered the 
little house with a happy countenance. His 
eyes sparkled with joy, and, holding up his 
closed hand, he called out in a clear voice : 
“Now guess what I hold here for Madelon!” 

“A letter from Strasburg?” asked Mme. 
Thierry. 

“ No ; alas, no !” responded Pierre ; “ my 
treasure is not quite so great ; but it will be 
a pleasure to Madelon, nevertheless ! Guess, 
only guess !” 

Madelon and his mother tried again and 
again, but could not guess it. 

“ Well, then, I will show it to you !” ex- 
claimed Pierre, and opening his hand, he let 
fall two tickets for the exhibition. “ Here, 
Madelon,” he added; “you have always 
wished to see ‘ the splendid feats of horseman- 


THE NEW HOME. 73 

ship/ and now I can gratify you. Come, get 
ready, my darling; to-day you shall behold 
wonders !” 

Madelon danced around the room with joy; 
but his mother, threatening Pierre with her 
finger, said : “ My 'son, my son, what a 
thoughtless extravagance ! we could have 
spent the money for the tickets to a better 
advantage !” 

* Why, yes, dear mother, if they had really 
cost money,” replied Pierre ; “ but a gentle- 
man for whom I did a little errand presented 
them to me. They wanted a letter carried 
quickly, and as the carrier was absent, I 
offered to take it if they would trust me. 
Then they gave it to me and told me to bring 
back an answer, and when I returned to the 
ticket-office the gentleman gave me these 
two admission tickets, upon condition that I 
would not sell them. Well, that I promised 

readily, as I thought instantly of our little 
7 


74 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


Madelon, and what a pleasure it would be to 
her if she could see the show, and now I am 
ready to take her. You will let me, dear 
mother, won’t you ?” 

“ I shall have to,” responded Mme. Thierry, 
“ as I cannot think of depriving the child of 
the pleasure. But take good care of Madelon, 
Pierre, and return home immediately after the 
close of the show.” 

“ Yes, mother,” said Pierre. “Come now, 
Madelon ; put on your little cloak, as it is 
cold, and take my hand. Good-bye, mother !” 

Mme. Thierry wished her children much 
pleasure, and joyfully they hastened away. 
Madelon leaped with delight, and asked 
Pierre many questions about the horseman- 
ship which they were going to see, and Pierre 
answered her as well as he could. But he 
himself had not seen the horsemen, except 
upon the street when they rode through the 
VDwn, and therefore could tell her but little 


THE NEW HOME. 


75 


about it. At last they arrived at the place, 
and got two capital seats, where they could 
see everything perfectly. There they sat, 
with beating hearts, waiting for the show to 
begin, and although they waited nearly an 
hour, Madelon did not become impatient. 
There was, indeed, so much to be seen and 
admired — the splendid building, with its 
large chandeliers, that sparkled with a hun- 
dred lamps ; the multitude of spectators ; the 
finely-dressed ladies and gentlemen ; the ser- 
vants in livery, who went to and fro to put 
everything in order, and many other sights 
which neither Madelon nor Pierre had ever 
seen before. They whispered to each other, 
calling each other’s attention to everything 
that was novel, and constantly finding some- 
thing new to excite their wonder. Thus the 
time passed quickly away, until at last a 
“ splendidly-dressed ” man entered the house 
and announced the beginning of the exhibi- 


76 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


tion. Suddenly there rushed in through the 
open door forty horses, their riders “ glittering 
with gold and precious stones, and with 
splendid plumes waving in their hats,” at 
which Madelon clapped her hands with joy 
and shouted at their “splendor,” which she 
had never before imagined. Madelon was be- 
side herself with excitement, so that she forgot 
everything but the “splendid” performance. 
Her joy was so great that many people looked 
at her and smiled. Madelon did not mind it, 
but again clapped her hands, uttering one ex- 
clamation after another, and finally, to see 
better, she stood up on the bench where 
every one could see her. Her pretty form 
and lively face, beaming with delight, attracted 
attention, and even the equestrians noticed 
her. They admired the pretty child, and 
when a part of the exhibition closed, the 
ladies near her gave her bon-bons and other 
good things, which Madelon liked very much 


THE NEW HOME. 77 

and rewarded with her prattle. Suddenly a 
man approached Pierre — who always held the 
hand of Madelon, for fear that she might be 
lost — and asked him to come with him a 
moment. Pierre was at once willing, but did 
not like to leave Madelon. However, an old 
lady beside him promised to take care of her 
during his absence. Pierre then followed the 
strange gentleman, who took him to the 
director of the exhibition. 

“ My son,” he asked, kindly, “ is that little 
girl your sister ?” 

“ No,” answered Pierre, who then related, 
in a few words, how he had found Madelon 
and taken her to his home. 

The director, after listening attentively to 
him, said : “ I will make a proposition to you, 
my son. The little one perhaps will be a 
burden to you and your mother, if you are 
very poor ; give her, therefore, to me, and I 
will see that she becomes a skillful rider. 


7 * 


y8 MATERNAL LOVE. 

You are freed then from care, and Madelon — 
that, I believe, is her name — will have a 
bright future before her. What do you say 
to it, my son ?” 

“ No, dear sir,” replied Pierre, “ that I can- 
not do, especially as I have not my mother’s 
consent. And then we love Madelon so 
dearly it would be hard for us to part with 
her; and besides, she is not our own child. 
If her mother should come and demand the 
child of us, then what could we say ? No, it 
cannot be, dear sir !” 

“ Pshaw ! you must think better of it, my 
boy,” replied the director. “Talk to your 
mother about it, and I tell you I will give you 
a thousand francs if you entrust the little one 
to me. A thousand francs! Think of it; 
that is a large sum ; and then you will not 
lose the little one entirely. You can see her 
every day and talk to her, as she will remain 
in Paris. And if her mother returns,- which I 


THE NEW HOME. 79 

do not fear, then leave the matter to me ; I 
will manage it. A thousand francs, my son ! 
Tell that to your mother, and bring an answer 
to-morrow. Consider what to do; such a 
fortune does not offer itself every day !” 

“Yes, if Madelon herself wishes it,” replied 
Pierre, reflecting; “and if she remains in 
Paris, and the thousand francs are kept for 
her, then, indeed, the matter might be thought 
of. Well, I will at any rate talk to her and 
my mother.” 

“ But the thousand francs shall be yours,” 
said the director. “ Do you not understand 
me? I will give them to you. The little 
one does not need them.” 

“ A thousand francs to me !” replied Pierre, 
disdainfully. “Sir, do you think that we 
would sell the little one ? If we give her to 
you, we do it in the hope of making her 
happy, and not from motives of self-interest. 
You must not talk in that way, sir !” 


8o 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


Suddenly, before the director could answer, 
there arose a tumult in the circus. A cry of 
terror was heard on all sides, and some of the 
spectators rushed headlong over the barriers 
into the ring. A horse, taking fright at some 
object, had leaped from the main track and 
hurled its rider — a pretty young girl — out of 
the saddle against the planks. She lay sense- 
less and bleeding on the ground, and many, 
urged by sympathy, hastened to render her 
some assistance, and to catch the horse run- 
ning about wildly. The confusion lasted 
several minutes. The director left Pierre, 
telling him to return to-morrow. Pierre hast- 
ened back to his seat, in order to care for the 
little Madelon, lest she should sustain some 
injury in the tumult. As fast as he could, he 
pushed through the crowd of excited specta- 
tors, and arrived finally at his seat. But, to 
his terror, he could see nothing of Madelon. 
The little one had disappeared, and with her 


THE NEW HOME. 


8l 


the lady to whom Pierre had entrusted her. 
He inquired after Madelon, but no one could 
tell him anything of her ; no one had noticed 
the child during the sudden tumult. Pierre 
called her by name, hastening hither and 
thither, and pressed through the crowd to the 
director to tell him of his loss and call upon 
him for aid. The large room was thoroughly 
searched; the director himself, after silence 
had been restored, calling Madelon, asking if 
the little one had taken another seat, or had 
been crowded out by the tumult ; but there 
was no answer. Madelon, it seems, disap- 
peared without leaving any trace behind. 
Finally it was found that, during the con- 
fusion, a well-dressed lady had left the circus 
with a weeping child. No one had opposed 
her departure, since it seemed natural for the 
lady to escape the tumult. But who the lady 
was no one knew. 

“The child is doubtless stolen,” said the 
F 


8 2 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


director to the weeping Pierre. “ It is not 
the first time that such things have been 
done. But be comforted, my son. We will 
do everything possible to find Madelon again, 
and, with the help of the police, we shall no 
doubt succeed. Be composed. The child 
could not disappear without leaving some 
vestige by which she may be found, and after 
a few weeks — perhaps days — you will see her 
again.” 

Pierre, it is true, became somewhat calmed 
by this advice of the director; but his enjoy- 
ment of the show, and of the other “ splen- 
dors” of the exhibition, was spoilt. He left 
the place, and with a sorrowful heart went 
home to his mother. He wept bitterly, for he 
loved Madelon dearly, and repented himself 
that he had left her alone, even for a moment. 
Sobbing, he told his terrified mother the mis- 
fortune that had happened, and Mme. Thierry 
had great difficulty in consoling the poor 


THE NEW HOME. 


83 


boy, who reproached himself most bitterly. 
The hope which his mother entertained, that 
Madelon would soon be found again, and 
that everywhere she would be under God’s 
protecting care, at length softened Pierre’s 
sorrow. When he went to bed he wet his 
pillow with his tears, as he still doubted 
whether he should ever see again the lovely 
eyes of the little Madelon, and anxiety about 
her fate pressed upon his heart like a heavy 
weight. His entertainment had cost him 
dearly; and he had good reason to regret 
heartily that he “ had seen the show.” 




CHAPTER IV. 

THE PERFORMERS. 

T~\URING the disappearance of Madelon, 
Marion, her mother, remained with 
Monsieur Lemaire, who had interested him- 
self in her with the spirit of Christian kind- 
ness. The exhaustion which followed the 
great exertion of Marion brought on a relapse 
of her former sickness, which, humanly speak- 
ing, would have been fatal but for the faithful 
nursing and sleepless care of the kind-hearted 
Louise. During the four weeks Marion lay 
in Chalons in a state of unconsciousness, 
Louise sat by her bedside, gave her the pre- 
scribed medicines and the needful refresh- 
ment, and only left her when she had to go 

84 




THE PERFORMERS. 


85 


out upon some pressing call of duty. At last, 
after many a long and sleepless night of anx- 
iety, with returning consciousness Marion 
opened her eyes and looked about her room 
in bewilderment. She found herself in a 
small chamber, poorly furnished, and every- 
where the signs of poverty. The bed upon 
which she lay, a small, ricketty table, with 
medicine bottles and a pewter spoon, an old 
arm-chair, and a wardrobe without a door, 
made up all the furniture of that humble 
room — no curtain in the only window, no 
mirror on the wall, not a single ornament to 
give the little room a cheerful appearance. 
Marion looked and wondered ; a young girl 
was sleeping in the arm-chair; she looked 
pale and careworn, and on every feature of her 
gentle face were the lines of weariness and 
suffering. Marion, herself so afflicted and 
unhappy, felt at once the most heartfelt sym- 
pathy for the sleeping girl. 

8 


86 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“Alas, alas!” she muttered, “where am 
I ? And how is it that I am in this strange 
bed, in this strange room ? And who is that 
girl there ? she seems no stranger to me. I 
have seen her before; but where, where? 
Have I lost my memory ? And oh, where is 
Madelon, where is my child ? I recollect ! 
she is in Paris, and — and I was on my way, 
and then came the storm and the rain, and I 
could get no farther. And then, yes, then — 
ah, yes ! now I recollect all — and then came 
that young girl there, and interested herself 
in me, and wrapped me in her own cloak, that 
I might not freeze, and what became of me 
after that I have entirely forgotten ! But that 
girl — what is her name? Ah, Louise! Yes, 
Louise ! Louise, my child ! ” 

Louise started up quickly from the chair 
on which she had been sleeping so soundly 
when Marion called her name, and a ray of 
light seemed to illumine her pale and sorrow- 


THE PERFORMERS. 8 / 

ful countenance when she saw Marion sitting 
up in bed. 

“ Ah, good lady !” she exclaimed, warmly, 
pressing Marion’s hands, “you have at last 
recovered yourself. What a pleasure for me, 
for us all. Say, say, do you feel better ? Do 
you feel well, dear lady ? ” 

“ Entirely well, only a little exhausted and 
confused,” replied Marion. “ But where am 
I, Louise ? Who brought me here ? Have I 
been sick long ?” 

“Yes, dear lady, quite a long time,” said 
Louise ; “ four weeks you seemed to be trem- 
bling between life and death. Do you not 
remember ? In the village where we lodged 
the first night after our meeting each other 
you became very sick. Well, the landlord 
was a cruel man, and would not keep you in 
his house unless we would leave with him a 
large amount of money for your maintenance. 
And then Father Lemaire said, * Children, we 


88 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


dare not forsake the poor lady, for she will 
certainly die unless carefully nursed.’ And I 
answered, ‘Yes, we must take her with us, 
and I will be her nurse, and will care for the 
poor lady as for a sister ; and all the seven 
children of Father Lemaire united with me in 
this offer, and Florentine also. Well, we car- 
ried you to the wagon, and wrapped you up 
as warmly as we could, and then we jour- 
neyed to Chalons. And here we are still in 
Chalons. I made you a bed in my little room 
because Father Lemaire has no room in his 
house, and besides, with so many children, it 
would have been too noisy for you : and then 
I nursed you, and the children of Father Le- 
maire helped me faithfully, and so, God be 
praised ! you have finally recovered. And it 
will be a joy to all the rest to hear of your 
recovery. You must know we all love and 
sympathize with you because you love your 
little Madelon so much. All the time of your 


THE PERFORMERS. 89 

sickness, when you were unconscious of what 
was going on about you, you spoke of nothing 
but your little Madelon, and at times you 
would weep and lament and wring your hands 
so that it almost broke my heart to see you. 
And then I could not comfort you, as you did 
not seem to understand a word that was 
spoken. But only be quiet, and all will turn 
out well, and the Lord who has restored you 
to health will restore you to your beloved 
child. Yes, only believe; God always helps 
when our need is greatest.” 

Louise then folded her hands in silence. 
Marion, looking at her tenderly and lovingly 
for some time, at last said: “You dear, good 
child, how much you have done for me! You 
gave up your own bed to me, a poor, strange 
woman, and had nothing for yourself all this 
time but an arm-chair. But tell me, why do 
you not have a second bed ?” 

“ Well, if you have not heard it, you cer- 
8 * 


90 MATERNAL LOVE. 

tainly must see we are not in prosperous cir- 
cumstances, u replied Louise, laughing through 
her tears. “Father Lemaire is very unsuc- 
cessful in his business, and therefore we have 
to economize. We cannot afford a second 
bed, and I was thankful to the landlord for 
this old arm-chair. But let us only have 
patience, and affairs may be better in the 
future. Yes, if only Fleurette were here. 
You ought to have seen how the people rushed 
to our exhibition when she was with us, but 
things are now in a bad way, and I fear Father 
Lemaire will have to sell his horses and every- 
thing in order to procure bread for his chil- 
dren.” 

“ And yet you have interested yourself so 
kindly in me !” exclaimed Marion, deeply 
affected. “Why am I not rich, to compensate 
so much love? Ah, if my uncle knew or 
could see all this unselfish pity, perhaps his 
hard heart would be touched ! Oh, Louise, 


THE PERFORMERS. 9I 

good child, how it pains me to think I have 
proved such a burden to you !” 

“ Hush ! you must not speak of that ; we 
have done everything heartily, and we only 
regret that we could not nurse you better !” 
exclaimed Louise as she wiped the tears 
from her eyes. “ But we will take courage ; 
the Lord sometimes sends prosperity in very 
unexpected ways, and if we should be thus 
favored, how gladly we would share it with 
you! You must not weep, good lady! It 
might be injurious to you and bring on your 
sickness again.” 

“ Let me weep, dear, good, friendly child !” 
replied Marion. “ They are not tears of sor- 
row, but sweet tears of gratitude for your 
kindness and love. Yes, Louise, I am con- 
fident that the Lord will not forsake you, for 
Jesus says : * Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
ye have done it unto me.’ Yes, the Saviour 


92 MATERNAL LOVE. 

will remember you; so I feel in my heart, 
and I know the Lord will bless you for your 
kindness to a stranger in distress !” Marion 
spoke these words with cheeks suffused with 
feeling and her eyes devoutly lifted to heaven. 

Louise involuntarily exclaimed : “ Marion, 
how beautiful you are ! more beautiful than 
even Fleurette herself!” 

“ How ? Fleurette did you say ?” answered 
Marion, a sudden thought flashing through 
her mind, and speaking to herself, she con- 
tinued, in an undertone : “ If I were as pretty 
as Fleurette, perhaps — but no — and yet an 
attempt would do no harm ! I will con- 
sider it !” 

“ What are you thinking about, Marion ?” 
asked Louise, somewhat surprised. “You 
mutter such strange words to yourself, and at 
the same time you laugh so sweetly and look 
so lovely. Will you tell me your pleasant 
thoughts ?” 


THE PERFORMERS. 


93 

“You shall know, Louise,” replied Marion. 
“ But give me time ; the thought is not yet 
matured, and perhaps it is not worth any- 
thing. But tell me something about Fleur- 
ette. Was she really so beautiful, and did 
she play as well as you represent ?” 

“ Certainly,” replied Louise ; “ the others 
are nothing compared with her. Yes, Fleur- 
ette, when she performed, and spoke as if the 
words dropped like pearls from her lips, all 
were carried away with the admiration. It 
seemed as if the applause and the shouting of 
‘ Well done !’ would never end. Ah, what are 
we compared with Fleurette ?” 

“ Have you still the pieces in which Fleur- 
ette took a part ?” asked Marion. “ I should 
like very much to read something of what 
she played.” 

“That you can, good lady! Yes, every- 
thing is still here. The dresses she presented 
to Father Lemaire when she went to Paris, as 


94 MATERNAL LOVE. 

she had to make use of something better 
there. And then she was so good-hearted 
that she thought the clothes and other articles 
might at some time or other be of service to 
Father Lemaire. But of what use are all the 
clothes and bonnets and feathers, if Fleurette 
is no longer in them ?” 

“ Could you not find another Fleurette, 
good Louise ?” asked Marion. 

“ Why yes, but not soon,” replied Louise, 
sadly shaking her head. “What do you 
think ; so pretty and so talented ! I can tell 
you, Marion, although I am accustomed to 
these things, the tears have at times stood in 
my eyes when Fleurette played her part; 
there was something so simple and touching 
in her manner. There are few could take her 
place, and Father Lemaire may wait a long 
time before he can find another Fleurette.” 

“ Well, we will see,” said Marion, half to 
herself and half to Louise. “ Fortune often 


THE PERFORMERS. 95 

comes to us when we least expect it, as you 
said a short while ago. Please, Louise, bring 
me the books and tell me which parts Fleur- 
ette played best, and I will pass my time in 
looking over them.” 

“Yes, you shall have everything, Marion,” 
replied Louise. “ Father Lemaire will gladly 
favor you, and I will get them for you to- 
day.” Louise kept her word; before noon 
she brought a bundle of books, and at the 
same time Father Lemaire and his whole 
family came to rejoice with Marion in her 
recovery. Marion thanked all most heartily; 
but the good people took little notice of her 
thanks, as what they had done was so natural 
that they considered it not worth talking 
about. They remained with Marion until 
evening, and then left her because they had 
to go to their calling. Louise also went 
with them, and Marion wished, as they went, 
that they might have a successful night. 


9 6 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ It is greatly needed,” replied Father Le- 
maire, shaking his head and shrugging his 
shoulders ; “ but I fear it will be like every 
other evening — nothing but empty seats in 
the audience-room. If the expenses are met, 
I will be satisfied.” 

When they were gone Marion took up a 
book, and was absorbed in reading and re- 
flection until Louise returned. She then laid 
it down, and asked how they had succeeded. 

“Badly, as usual,” replied Louise, rather 
low-spirited. “ Fleurette is wanted by us 
everywhere.” 

Marion made no reply, and, fully occupied 
with her own reflections, she said very little 
during the evening. Louise, who was busied 
with her own gloomy thoughts, scarcely no- 
ticed the quiet and changed demeanor of her 
guest. Finally both went to rest. Marion 
reposed in the comfortable bed, whilst Louise, 
wrapping herself in her cloak, nestled herself, 


THE PERFORMERS. 97 

as usual, in her arm-chair. Uncomfortable as 
was her hard and narrow resting-place, she 
nevertheless soon forgot all her sorrows in a 
sound and refreshing sleep. But Marion was 
sleepless, and for a long time disturbed by 
strange and excited thoughts. 

It was noted how constantly Marion studied 
the books put into her hands by Father Le- 
maire ; Louise had to mark all the parts which 
Fleurette had played in former times, and 
these sections Marion read over and over, 
perhaps as often as forty times. Meanwhile, 
her shattered constitution was repaired, and 
her pale cheeks bloomed as the rose, her eyes 
sparkled with fire that seemed to be kindled 
in her heart, and she was soon able to leave 
the room. This occurred just at the time 
Father Lemaire, whose income was still short, 
seriously thought of selling his horses and 
wagon to obtain bread for his family. With a 

sad countenance he informed his family, in 
9 G 


9 8 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


the presence of Marion, of his resolution. 
Silence followed this unexpected and depress- 
ing intelligence, when Marion kindly per- 
suaded him from this intention ; she said : 
“You ought not, Father Lemaire, to be hasty 
in this matter ; how can you take your bag- 
gage and family from town to town without 
your horses and wagon ?” 

“We will have to travel on foot,” answered 
Father Lemaire, with a shrug of his shoulders ; 
“ and as to the baggage, if things continue on 
as they have been of late, we will not have 
much to carry. One article after another will 
have to be sold.” 

“ Perhaps this may yet be averted,” said 
Marion ; “ you may yet get fuller houses.” 

“ Of that there is very little prospect,” 
sighed Father Lemaire. “Yes, if Fleurette 
were here or could be replaced.” 

“Well, then,” said Marion, “you have in- 
terested yourself in me as in a sister, and I 


THE PERFORMERS. 


99 


consider it my duty to repay your friendly 
services as far as lies in my power. Father 
Lemaire, let me make a trial, let me appear 
and take the part of Fleurette. During my 
sickness I have memorized several parts, and 
probably I shall have the fortune to play them 
to the satisfaction of the spectators.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Father Lemaire, Louise 
and the rest, in surprise ; “ Marion, could you 
do that? You, of so noble rank, you take 
part in the show ! That cannot be.” 

“ And why not ?” replied Marion ; “ my rich 
relations have cast me off, whilst you, with 
great self-denial, have taken me up. And 
then I am not going to appear in my own 
name and as the Countess Brissot. Call me 
Fleurette or whatever you please. I am not 
only willing to do this, but anxious, for I feel 
it my duty to lighten the burden I have placed 
upon you. Make a trial of me, Father Le- 
maire. If the trial is successful, what a satis- 


100 MATERNAL LOVE. 

faction to me! if unsuccessful, there will be 
nothing lost, and I will have the conscious- 
ness of an honest effort to serve you.” 

“ Father Lemaire, Marion is right,” ex- 
claimed Louise, whilst all the rest were silent; 
“ she is right, and I would certainly act in the 
same way if I were in her situation. And do 
you know what I think ? I believe Marion will 
have even greater success than Fleurette, 
because she is prettier, and you should only 
hear her read once, Father Lemaire. Look 
into that beautiful face and hear that silvery, 
mellifluous tone; only yesterday she made 
the tears come when she read a touching 
scene to me. Only hear her, Father Lemaire, 
and then judge for yourself of the success 
with which she will probably meet.” 

“But, then, will she not be ashamed at 
some future time of having been engaged in 
a common exhibition ?” said Father Le- 


maire. 


THE PERFORMERS. 


IOI 


“ No, I will never be ashamed of having 
been thankful,” exclaimed Marion. “ Give me 
a trial, Father Lemaire. Determine upon a 
part in which I can appear, and you may rest 
assured that I will do my best. Do not 
hesitate. You, at least, can receive no injury 
from the trial.” 

“ Well, I am willing you should try,” said 
Father Lemaire. “ Come, good Marion, read 
something for me.” 

“ I need no book, I know it all by heart,” 
replied Marion, and recited at once that part 
which had so affected Louise the day before. 
Astonished, Father Lemaire and the others 
listened to the recitation. Marion performed 
her part so admirably that when she ended 
Father Lemaire jumped up in ecstasy and 
exclaimed, 

“ Now I myself believe it will not be 
necessary to sell our bay horses. Dear 
Marion, Fleurette is a mere beginner com- 


102 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


pared with you ! Florentine, quickly to the 
printing-office ; we must have new advertise- 
ments in large letters. 4 Mme. — well, what 
shall it be ? — yes, Mme. Chlorinde from Paris, 
a stranger! right, Marion, Mme. Chlorinde 
shall be your name, of Paris — that will draw 
the people, and if you play as well as you 
have just now recited we shall live to see 
wonders. Florentine, hasten to the office as 
fast as possible. I have renewed hope, chil- 
dren, and breathe freely again. Dear Marion, 
you will prove a deliverer to us all.” 

“ Heaven grant it !” replied Marion, heartily ; 
“ it would be the greatest pleasure to me if 
I could become a blessing to you.” 

Florentine now hastened to the printing- 
office, whilst Father Lemaire was bustling 
about getting ready for the exhibition, and 
his oldest sons were busy spreading through 
the city the news that Mme. Chlorinde of 
Paris would give an exhibition to-morrow 


THE PERFORMERS. IO3 

evening. The advertisements with the large 
letters were posted at all corners of the streets. 
The citizens of Chalons became inquisitive, and 
every one had something to say about Chlor- 
inde. Some even went so far as to say they 
had seen Mme. Chlorinde in Paris, and that she 
was a wonderful woman ; in short, by evening 
Mme. Chlorinde was on every tongue, and 
Father Lemaire once more looked bright and 
cheerful. 

When the ticket-office was opened the next 
day, Father Lemaire might have employed 
twenty hands, there was such a rush to obtain 
tickets. Long before the performance began 
the house was jammed. When Marion be- 
held the immense concourse of people she 
almost despaired of success ; but the thought 
that she was prompted to take this step, not 
from self-interest or vanity, but from gratitude 
to her benefactor, inspired her with renewed 
courage. Louise came to her at that moment, 


104 MATERNAL LOVE. 

with a face beaming with delight, and told 
her how happy Father Lemaire was, in view 
of the large audience. The rest of the family 
came also and pressed her hands and almost 
wept for joy, whilst Louise said : “ Courage, 
dear Marion, for you cannot fail of success.” 
With this encouragement, Marion regained 
her self-possession, and waited with but little 
anxiety her time to appear before the anxious 
crowd. At last the time came. The house 
was filled to its utmost capacity, and the 
curious multitude could no longer be kept 
quiet. Marion’s heart throbbed as the curtain 
rose ; she stepped upon the stage with the sea 
of upturned faces before her. At first all 
about her seemed veiled in a mist, and, with 
a feeling of faintness, her memory utterly 
failed, so that she could not recall the first 
words of her part. Father Lemaire had an- 
ticipated this, and from the prompter’s box 
whispered to her distinctly the forgotten 


THE PERFORMERS. 105 

words. Marion began to speak, and as she 
proceeded the veil dropped from her memory, 
and the tones of her full and beautiful voice 
fell like the sweetest music upon the ears of 
the listening multitude. She became so ab- 
sorbed in her performance that she no longer 
thought of the people. All hearts were 
borne along on the current of her own feel- 
ings, and when the curtain fell, at the close of 
the first act, there was one burst of applause 
over the whole house, and it seemed as if the 
clapping of hands and the “ well done” would 
never cease. 

Marion — the good Marion — saw and heard 
nothing of all this. She only saw the happy 
faces of Father Lemaire and his family. She 
only heard the words of gratitude from the 
lips of her friends. Louise flung herself upon 
her neck with tears of joy, and exclaimed : 

“ Do you see, Father Lemair'e, that I was 
right when I said that Marion would prove 


106 MATERNAL LOVE. 

herself superior even to Fleurette? Dear 
Marion, how happy you make us !” 

“ Heaven be praised for this hour of suc- 
cess !” replied Marion, smiling. “ You know 
not how happy I feel that I can compensate 
you in some way for your acts of goodness to 
me ! But hark ! the bell rings again and the 
curtain is being raised !” 

Every one hastened to his post, and when 
Marion again appeared she was received with 
a perfect storm of applause. She recognized 
it with a modest courtesy, and then proceeded 
with her part without the least trace of her 
first embarrassment. She won all hearts, and 
when the piece was concluded, the whole 
house seemed to tremble with the thundering 
applause of the excited and jubilant multitude. 
Father Lemaire was the happiest of men, for 
Marion had delivered him out of great dis- 
tress and perplexity. 

Yes, by her excellent performance, Marion 


THE PERFORMERS. 107 

had changed the fortune of Father Lemaire. 
After the first appearance in the exhibition 
which met with such splendid success, she 
continued to perform, and Father Lemaire had 
to raise the admission fee, to counteract, in 
some measure, the rush of spectators. After 
Marion had discharged her debt of gratitude, 
she felt afresh the longing after her child — the 
little Madelon — and determined to go to 
Paris. 

“ Far be it from me to prevent you from 
going, dear Marion,” replied Father Lemaire. 
“ I know full well that the longing for your 
child must be stronger than your friendship 
for us. But, Marion, after you have found 
your child again, could you not return with it 
to us ? As long as you are with us we shall 
not want, and with what joy we will welcome 
you ! We will carry you and your little 
Madelon on our hands! Yes, Marion, go; 
but come back again to our open arms !” 


io8 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ No, Father Lemaire, no ; that cannot 
be !” replied Marion, with quiet determination. 
“ The welfare of my child is of far greater im- 
portance to me than my own happiness. In 
the house of my uncle will my Madelon find 
such a home as I cannot expect elsewhere, 
and least of all in a wandering and pur- 
poseless life such as yours, Father Lemaire. 
And then, perhaps, when my uncle ascertains 
my deep and unquenchable love for my child, 
when he learns that I suffer everything for 
my child, perhaps he will have compassion 
on me; perhaps the ice that has gathered 
about his heart will melt, and he will allow 
me a place in his house ; if not for my sake, 
for the sake of my child that so much needs 
the tender care of a mother. And if that 
should happen, then I should be the happiest 
mother under the sun. If I could every day, 
every hour, see my child, speak to her, press 
her to my heart, I would gladly perform the 


THE PERFORMERS. IO9 

most menial services. Offer me all the treas- 
ures of the world without my child, and with 
her only a crust of bread, and my decision in 
favor of the latter would take but a mo- 
ment! We must separate, Father Lemaire. 
Louise, my dear friend ! I will remember 
you all, and often think of you with love. I 
seize the pilgrim’s staff and travel on, and 
God guide my steps so that I may find my 
child — my sweet, lovely, darling Madelon !” 

All wept. Even Father Lemaire, unused 
to weep, was overcome with emotion, and his 
eyes were suffused with tears. 

“ Go, child,” he said to Marion, and, as if in 
benediction, laid his hands upon her head — 
“ go, and God’s care be with thee ! Like a 
saving angel you came among us, and, in re- 
turn for our little favors, you have rescued us 
all from the abyss of ruin. Never shall we 
forget it ! Iam now free from care and with 

sufficient means. I shall probably find a 
10 


IIO 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


second Fleurette, if not a second Madame 
Chlorinde! And now take this, dear — for 
ever dear — Marion ! It is your share of our 
income, and you must accept it for the sake 
of your child !” 

Marion’s resistance availed nothing, and she 
had to accept the offering of Father Lemaire. 
Provided with several hundred francs, she 
finally took leave of her friends, embraced the 
good, faithful Louise for the last time, and 
then, with the warm longing for the child in 
her heart, hastened by coach to Paris. When 
she reached the city her heart beat with joy 
in the new prospect of meeting her child. Ah, 
little did she know the bitter disappointment 
that awaited her, and how soon the bright 
hope of her maternal heart would go out in 
darkness ! 



CHAPTER V. 

NEW TRIALS. 

M ARION hastened through the busy 
streets of Paris to the house of her 
uncle, Count Narbonne, which was still dear 
to memory. Her heart throbbed as she gazed 
at a distance and saw the green window- 
shutters by which it was distinguished from 
the other houses of that neighborhood. “Ah, 
under yonder roof is my darling child, from 
whom I have been so long and painfully 
separated!” The tumult of her emotions 
overcame her, the blood rushed to her heart, 
and for a moment she stood and panted for 
breath. As soon as she recovered from the 

temporary exhaustion, and covering her face 

111 



1 12 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


with her veil, so as not to be recognized by 
her uncle or his wife, who might be standing 
at the window with Madelon, she went on, or 
rather flew, for love has wings. And now 
she stood before the house whose walls she 
believed enclosed the whole of her life’s hap- 
piness ; her eyes glanced from window to 
window ; but, alas ! the windows were all 
empty and not a human being could be 
seen. 

“Simpleton that I am!” whispered Marion; 
“ how could I expect to see her at the very 
first moment ? She is perhaps playing upon 
the carpet, or prattling her sweet childish talk 
to her aunt, or it may be her uncle is dandling 
her upon his knee, and enjoying the ring of 
her clear, silvery voice. Be patient, and she 
will certainly come to the window some time 
or other, and I will gladly wait an hour, a 
day, or far in the night, if I can only get a 
glimpse of the dear, sweet, angelic figure! 


NEW TRIALS. II3 

Yes, patience, restless heart; your longing 
will yet be gratified !” 

Marion lingered, walked up and down the 
street before the house, and every time she 
passed she looked from window to window, 
and gazed anxiously up to the crimson cur- 
tains : but nothing could be seen or heard ; 
there was a painful, almost ominous, silence 
about the house. 

Marion, although impressed with the grave- 
like stillness of the place, had no foreboding 
of evil. Her uncle and aunt had always lived 
a very quiet and retired life, and kept very 
few servants. After walking up and down 
the street for a long time, at last she sat down 
exhausted upon the steps of a staircase oppo- 
site, still keeping her eye upon every window 
and door; but no signs of life were visible, 
and the shadows of night coming on would 
put an end to these anxious vigils. Marion’s 

loving heart was gradually becoming dark 
10 * H 


114 MATERNAL LOVE. 

and gloomy as the night, and weary of the 
ceaseless watching, she wrapped her veil 
about her face and wept in silence. 

But somehow there must be an end of this, 
for the poor mother could not pass the night 
upon the street. Rising from her seat, and 
casting another and the last look at the 
house, she wondered why all was so dark 
and gloomy, with no light in the windows or 
anywhere. This was strange, because at 
other times there was always a light in the 
two windows of the room on the first story 
occupied by the Countess Narbonne. An 
anxious foreboding filled Marion’s heart as 
she thought that possibly Count Narbonne 
had sold his house, or perhaps had removed 
to his country-seat. 

“I will not, I cannot, endure this hor- 
rible suspense any longer,” she muttered 
to herself, “and there can be no harm in 
seeking admission into the house. No one 


NEW TRIALS. 1 1 5 

will recognize me with this veil ; at all events, 
I will venture it.” 

Hastily and resolutely she approached the 
house and pulled the bell. Its clear, sharp 
tones, as they rang out upon the still night 
air, startled her. For some time she anx- 
iously waited an answer ; but all was silent. 
She rang again and again, and finally gave the 
bell a desperate pull. Presently she heard 
the sound of footsteps in the hall, and then a 
voice : “ Who pulls the bell so violently at 
this late hour of the night ? Who is there ?” 

“ Martin, old Martin, open !” replied Marion, 
with a trembling voice — “ only one moment ! 
Open !” 

“ Pshaw ! it is only a woman, and she 
knows me !” Marion heard the old servant 
say, whom she recognized by his voice ; and 
immediately after the door was opened. 

An old man stood in the hall, with a can- 
dle, and looked with inquisitive wonder at 


Il6 MATERNAL LOVE. 

Marion, who rushed into the house, and, 
trembling with excitement, seized the old 
man’s hand and exclaimed : “ Where is she , 
Martin ? Where is Count Narbonne ?” 

“And what do you want with him, ma- 
dame ?” inquired the old man, who could not 
recognize the features of the strange lady 
through her veil. The count has gone on a 
journey with his wife to Italy, and will not 
return for several weeks.” 

“On a journey! Ah, I expected that!” 
muttered Marion. “But the child, Martin, 
the child ? Did they take her with them ?” 

“ The child ?” asked the old man, in aston- 
ishment. “ What child ? His grace, my 
lord, has no child !” 

“ No child ?” exclaimed Marion, greatly 
excited. “ Martin, good Martin, try to recol- 
lect ! I know very well that your lord has 
no children of his own ! But that little girl 
who a few months ago came into this house? 


NEW TRIALS. II/ 

The little Madelon, Martin ? Where is she ? 
where is she ? Oh have mercy, good Martin, 
and conceal nothing from me !” 

“ A child ? Madelon ?” said the old man, 
in amazement. “ Dear lady, you are probably 
a little crack-brained ! I know of no child ! 
Go, go ! it is very unbecoming in you to 
bring an old man out of his bed to make a 
fool of him !” 

“ No, it is my child I want ! I truly seek 
my child !” exclaimed Marion, almost beside 
herself. “ She must certainly be here ! The 
count, I am confident, received her into his 
house ! Try your best to recollect, dear 
Martin ! The little Madelon !” 

“Ah, you are foolish, or else you have 
got into the wrong box !” replied the old 
man, more kindly. “ Go to your home, 
good lady ! There is no child here, you may 
depend upon it. I have not left this house 
for a long time, and should certainly know 


1 1 8 MATERNAL LOVE. 

something of this affair! Go, go; you are 
out of your wits! You are sick and need 
rest! Go, good lady; go and take some 
sleep !” 

Marion neither saw nor heard anything 
more. There she stood, wringing her hands 
and leaning against the door ; her limbs trem- 
bled, her head was dizzy, and for a moment 
she lost all consciousness. The stroke had 
fallen too suddenly, and she was wellnigh 
crushed. After a little she revived, and throw- 
ing herself at the feet of old Martin, cried out 
with heartrending tones : “ Martin ! Martin ! 
For God’s sake give me back my child ! She 
must be here ! Martin, have pity on a heart- 
broken mother ! Where is Madelon, Martin ? 
Where is she ? Speak, speak, or I die !” 

Old Martin was deeply affected. “ Rise up, 
good lady ! Rise up ! ” he said ; “ I see very 
well now that you are not imposing upon me ; 
but there must be some mistake here. Are 


NEW TRIALS. II9 

you really seeking the Count Narbonne — 
Louis Narbonne ? ” 

“Yes, the Count Louis and his wife Matil- 
da ! ” exclaimed Marion. “ Do not doubt me 
in the least, good Martin ! And now speak, 
tell me the truth : where is my Madelon?” 

“ Really, madame, upon the word of an 
honest man, and in the presence of God, I 
assure you there is no child here, and of your 
Madelon I know nothing !” responded the old 
man Martin, with a solemn voice. “ Pray, be- 
lieve an old servant, who has never soiled his 
conscience with a lie ! ” 

“ Alas, alas ! then I am the most unhappy 
and miserable creature under the sun ! ” said 
Marion, with a faltering voice, and sank upon 
the floor. 

Alarmed, old Martin sprang to her relief/ 
pulled the veil from her face, and recognized, 
with a cry, the niece of his lord. 

“ My lady, the Countess Brissot ! ” he ex- 


120 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


claimed, almost beside himself with wonder 
and terror. “All saints praise the Lord! 
Marion, countess ! rouse yourself! Oh, dear 
me, what am I to do ?” 

With great effort the old man lifted Marion 
from the floor, carried her into the next room, 
and laid her down upon a couch. Then he 
went and brought his wife ; and their united 
efforts were finally successful in restoring 
Marion to consciousness. She rose up and 
looked wildly about her. 

“ Away, away from this house, where sym- 
pathy and mercy have no place !” she ex- 
claimed. “ Oh, the child ! to reject the help- 
less child, whose lovely innocence would have 
softened the heart of a tiger ! And that, too, 
after I had pleaded with him for compassion 
in my letter that was written with tears ! And 
yet my child was rejected and cast without 
mercy upon the street, helpless and alone ! ” 

“ Pray compose yourself, my lady coun- 


NEW TRIALS. 


1 2 1 


tess ! ” implored the good Martin, with tears. 
“ Remain with us ! We old people still love 
you as of old, when you, like a good angel, 
ruled in the house. Leave us not, Marion! 
And the count, when he knows — ” 

“ Let me hear no more of him, the hea- 
then ! ” exclaimed Marion. “ No, I cannot 
remain under his roof. I cannot breathe 
within these walls. I must away ! I must 
seek my child ! Do not detain me, it would 
be perilous ! Let me away ! Away, I say !” 
With a frantic struggle, Marion tore herself 
away from the arms of the old man and his 
wife, and escaped from the house. It was in 
vain that Martin ran after her ; in vain that 
he called her by name, and with tears be- 
sought her to return. She vanished like a 
shadow in the darkness that hung over the 
gloomy streets, and Martin had to return 
alone and with sorrow to the house. 

Marion, the mother, was almost frantic 
11 


122 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


with anxiety about her child. Without being 
aware of what she was doing, she wandered 
about the streets of Paris, and now and then 
she would scream at the top of her voice to 
relieve her sorrowing heart. At last she sank 
exhausted upon the porch of a church, and 
remained in a state of unconsciousness until 
the stir and activity of the coming day 
wakened her anew to life. Although, with 
the return of consciousness, there was re- 
newed the sense of her misery, yet the first 
terrible shock of her heart was over, and she 
was prepared for calmer thought and reflec- 
tion. As she pondered the probable fate of 
her child, a ray of hope suddenly illumined 
her sorrowing heart. She recollected the 
conductor to whose care she had entrusted 
the child on her departure from Strasburg. 
She knew him to be an honest and a reliable 
man. He, if any one, could give her the de- 
sired information. Probably he took the 


NEW TRIALS. 


123 


poor little one into his own family. “ Yes, it 
is possible. At all events, he is the only one 
who can give me the needed information and 
solve this painful mystery.” 

She rose, descended the porch steps, and 
walked slowly through the busy streets to 
the post-house. Often had she to pause and 
rest, because the terrible agitation of the pre- 
vious night had fearfully exhausted her. She 
had paroxysms of fever, accompanied with a 
torturing headache. But she noticed neither 
fever nor headache, and thought only of her 
child, walking wearily on until she at last 
reached the post-house. After a few mo- 
ments’ rest, she began her search for the con- 
ductor. From one and another, of whom she 
made inquiry, she was dismissed curtly and 
without any satisfactory information ; but she 
was so intent upon the one object of her 
heart that she persisted in her inquiries, re- 
gardless of failure and contempt. She next 


124 MATERNAL LOVE. 

went into the house and pressed her suit with 
the officers, but with little success. All she 
learned was that Lasalle had gone to Mar- 
seilles or Lyons or some other place, no one 
knew exactly where. Again the gleam of 
hope which for a moment cheered her heart 
was gone, but the thought of her child kept 
her from utter despondency. 

“ Well,” she muttered, “ I will go to Lyons 
and Marseilles in pursuit of Lasalle, if I 
should not find him in Paris. Courage, 
courage, my heart! for I shall never rest 
until I have found my Madelon !” 

And now she directed her inquiry, not 
about Lasalle, but after her child. She 
thought that if Madelon had come to Paris it 
would be known, for she was such a charming 
child that, once seen, she could not easily be 
forgotten. She recollected the day on which 
she presumed Madelon must have arrived in 
Paris, and, with the most urgent appeals, she 


NEW TRIALS. 125 

implored the office-clerks to consult their 
registers and ascertain whether the child had 
arrived at that time. 

“ It is impossible to know that; let us alone, 
and go !” was the rough and only answer. 

Marion did not go, but, folding her hands, 
pressed her inquiry with tears and with quiver- 
ing lips. 

At last a young man took pity upon the 
poor lady and consulted the registers. “ Yes,” 
he said, “ the child arrived here, but Heaven 
only knows what became of her! You should 
not have suffered the child to travel alone, 
good lady !” 

" That is true,” answered Marion, “ but I 
meant it for the best, and could not well do 
otherwise. I thank you, dear sir. Now I 
know at least one thing for certain.” 

After she had left the office the young man 
hastened after her. He was deeply affected 

by her pale and sorrowful countenance and 
11 * 


126 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


her manifest anguish of spirit. “Wait a 
moment, good lady,” he said. “ We will see 
whether there is any one here who can give 
us any farther information. Accompany me ; 
perhaps some one may recollect the young 
girl.” 

Marion followed him, whilst the young man 
asked one and another about the girl ; but no 
one seemed to know anything about her. 
Weeks had elapsed since the day of her sup- 
posed arrival ; hundreds of travelers had come 
and gone, and it was not likely that any one 
about the office would recollect the little 
child. 

“ It is of no use,” said the young man, ten- 
derly, to the unhappy mother, who quietly 
wept. “You must take some other course 
to find the lost child. Apply to the police ; 
perhaps they can help you.” 

“ I thank you, dear sir,” said Marion, and 
left the depot with a sorrowful heart. Upon 


NEW TRIALS. 


127 


the street she was again overcome by her suf- 
ferings. She sat down and wept in the very 
corner where Pierre had found the little 
Madelon in tears. After this outflow of her 
sorrowing heart, she felt relieved, and again 
proceeded on her way. But faint from her 
long fasting, she stepped into a saloon and 
ordered some nourishment. After a frugal 
meal she rose to pay, when, to her terror, she 
found that her pocket-book, containing her 
little means, was gone. She had either lost 
it or some pickpocket must have robbed her 
whilst lying unconscious upon the church- 
porch. 

“ I have no money,” said Marion to the 
saloon-keeper; “ take this ring; it is all I have 
left of any value.” 

The keeper looked into the pale face of the 
poor sufferer, and the anger which began to 
flush his face was changed into sympathy; 
for he saw at once that she was no ordinary 


128 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


woman. “This,” he thought, “is not the look 
of an impostor .” 

“ For God’s sake, keep your ring, madame !” 
he said. “You ate scarcely anything; no, 
no, I will not take your ring ! Poor woman ! 
perhaps you have been robbed ?” 

“Yes, so it seems, and it was very wicked 
in the thief,” replied Marion, sorrowfully. 
“ But no matter ; I shall go to Lyons without 
money and if I have to beg my way ! Is it not 
so, dear monsieur ; may not a mother do this 
for her child ?” 

Before the surprised saloon-keeper had 
time to reply, Marion had left the dining- 
room and disappeared among the crowd upon 
the street. “ Poor woman !” muttered the 
landlord to himself ; “ she touched my heart 
very much by her simple words. Who can 
she be ? She seems to be very unhappy, but 
she is not a common beggar ! ” 

Yes, truly unhappy was poor Marion. Not 


NEW TRIALS. I29 

only deprived of her child, but of all the 
means wherewith she hoped to find her child 
again. 

But God has promised to his afflicted chil- 
dren that, according to their day, so their 
strength shall be, and no child of faith and 
prayer has ever found his promise fail. So 

Marion, instead of sinking under this new 

\ 

trial, was only incited to renewed exertions. 

“ Take everything from me !” she said to 
herself. “You cannot deprive me of my 
God ; and he, the all-merciful Father, will be 
my strength and support! God will direct 
my steps to my lost child, and with this con- 
fidence I will never despair of success whilst 
I draw the breath of life !” 

She then went to the police-station and 
told the story of her sorrow, and begged for 
help in this search for her child. The officer 
to whom she applied listened feelingly to her 

story, but gave her little hope. 

I 


130 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ Paris is large,” said he, “ and a child may 
easily be lost. Probably it has fallen into 
wicked hands, and the poor child may be 
used for selfish gains — for begging, or even 
for stealing! But meanwhile we will see 
what can be done. Do not give up all hope, 
good lady. Of course it will cost a great 
deal of money, but I take it for granted you 
are not without means.” 

“ I ? Ah, my dear sir, I am poor, very 
poor, since they robbed me of all I had in 
this world !” replied Marion, with a touching 
simplicity. “ I have nothing left but my 
sufferings and my trust in the help of the 
Lord !” 

“ Ah, ah ! that is bad, good lady !” said the 
officer. “And have you no relations or 
friends that could render you assistance ?” 

“ None ; no one sympathizes with me !” 
said Marion, as before. “ My only hope is in 
the mercy of God !” 


NEW TRIALS. 


131 

“But what can we do, then?” asked the 
officer. “ Nothing whatever can be done 
without money!” 

“ Nothing ? Ah, that is very sad !” replied 
Marion. “Very well; I will beg and fast and 
deprive myself of everything, until I have 
raised the amount necessary, dear sir! But 
I pray you let search be made after my child, 
if only as an incidental or a secondary matter. 
That will not cost you much trouble, and 
God will bless you for it ! I will remember 
you daily in my prayers !” 

“ Poor lady !” said the officer. “ Be it 
so. I will do what I can. Yes, that I will, 
out of regard for you ! I pity you. I have 
also a little daughter at home about the age 
of your little Madelon ; and when I think 
that she might be lost — Yes, depend upon 
it, I will do all that lies in my power !” 

“The Lord reward you for it, dear sir!” 
replied Marion, with feeling. “And when 


132 MATERNAL LOVE. 

we find the child, the gratitude of a poor 
mother will be a blessing to you !” 

“ Dear, good lady !” said the officer. “ But 
where shall we take the child, in case it 
should be found ? To you?” 

“ No, not to me, because I have no home, 
no dwelling-place !” replied Marion. “ I 
must depart ; travel day and night, to Lyons 
and to Marseilles, until I have found Lasalle ! 
Of him I shall probably learn something! 
No, no ; I cannot be idle. I must be off at 
once! You understand it, dear sir, do you 
not?” 

“Yes, truly, I understand that you are a 
true and an affectionate mother,” answered 
the officer, sympathizingly. “Only go, in 
God’s name, and cast your care upon him. 
If we should discover the child, I will receive 
her into my own house until you return from 
your wandering. Yes, that I will; you may 
depend upon it. My name is Roland. Look 


NEW TRIALS. 1 33 

for me here when you return ; and should I 
not be here, then some one will conduct you 
to my house.” 

Marion expressed her thanks from a grate- 
ful heart. The friendliness of the officer was 
like healing balm to her wounded spirit, and 
soothed her sorrow. Inspired with new hope 
and strength, she left the kind man and 
Paris the same day, and began her journey to 
Lyons. She possessed neither money nor 
anything worth money, but she had a true 
heart and the holy love of a mother for her 
child — that love that endures all, suffers all 
and overcomes all. She went defenceless 
and alone, yet not alone ; for the mercy of the 
Lord compassed her path, and the ministering 

angels lingered about her lonely way. 

12 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE BEGGAR BOY. 

T T was a long and painful journey which 
“ L Marion undertook out of love for her 
child. She was forced to endure many hard- 
ships, and to go begging from door to door. 
At last she arrived at Lyons with a little 
money in her pocket, which she had saved 
from the charity of kind people. This she 
carefully hoarded, since she would need 
money for the child when found, who was 
as yet too young and weak to endure the 
hardships with which she herself was hardly 
able to contend. In Lyons she asked after 
Lasalle, the conductor. She could not find 

134 


THE BEGGAR BOY. I35 

him, as he was in Marseilles, and again she 
had to resume her journey. 

“ Never mind,” she said to herself. “I 
must find him some time, even though I 
travel round the world in search of him !” 

When she arrived at Marseilles, she was 
told that Lasalle was on the road, and would 
not return until the day after to-morrow. 

“ Well, then, I will wait until he comes,” 
said the patient sufferer. She begged her 
scanty food in the houses ; at night she slept 
upon a straw bed, which cost her but a few 
sous. She was thus not compelled to use 
the little money she had saved, since she 
scarcely ever begged alms in vain. The day 
on which Lasalle was expected she remained 
in the street where the post-building was situ- 
ated, and examined every stage-coach with 
eager looks. Ten times was she disappointed. 
At last, about dusk, he came. Yes, that 
must be he — she recognized him at once — 


136 MATERNAL LOVE. 

and now she hastened, with a beating heart, 
to the post-house yard. The stage-coach 
stopped, Lasalle descended, and with one leap 
Marion was by his side, and, seizing him by 
the arm, asked, with a trembling voice : “ La- 
salle, what have you done with my child ?” 

“ Why, good woman, are you mad ?” said 
the conductor. “ What do you want of me ? 
• Who are you ? I do not know you !” 

“ Remember, Lasalle ! In Strasburg I 
committed my child to your keeping, and you 
promised not to forsake my little Madelon !” 

“Alas, alas!” exclaimed Lasalle. “You 
are — Poor lady! I am not to blame. Wait a 
moment, I will attend to my most urgent busi- 
ness, and then take you to my house, so as 
to tell you all I know. Pray, wait a few 
minutes.” 

Marion would have waited for days to gain 
intelligence of her child. Lasalle did not 
keep her long, but quickly returned and 


THE BEGGAR BOY. 137 

brought her home to his wife. Here Marion 
learned what we already know, and which 
crushed her last hopes. Madelon had, there- 
fore, most likely not gone to her uncle, the 
Count Narbonne, since she had lost the letter 
her mother had given her; but even if she 
had gone there, she must have been repulsed 
from his home, and Marion knew not where 
to seek for her child ; and it seemed indeed 
probable that the poor little thing had perished 
with hunger or cold. It was a hard blow; 
the poor mother, who had endured the 
greatest sufferings and hardships, at last gave 
way. She hid her face in her hands and 
wept bitterly — wept as if her heart would 
break. 

Lasalle and his wife for a long time tried 
in vain to comfort the poor woman. At last 
they expressed the hope that some kind man 
had taken pity on the little one, and at least 
saved her from starvation. Madelon must 


12 * 


I38 MATERNAL LOVE. 

still be in Paris, and an advertisement may be 
all that is necessary to find her. 

“Try this as a last resort, good lady/’ he 
continued. “ It can, at any rate, do no harm, 
and I will not let the cost burden you. If I 
had not been sent away from Paris so quickly, 
I would not have left your poor child in such 
a condition/’ 

At this suggestion Marion felt renewed 
courage, for a ray of hope once more cheered 
her sad heart, and but a ray was needed to 
renew her spirits. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said as she wiped the tears 
in her eyes — “yes, I will try that, I will 
return to Paris, and on the journey will pray 
to God that he will let me find my child again ! 
Farewell, Lasalle ! Farewell, madame ! I 
will start immediately.” 

“ No, no, not now,” begged Mme. Lasalle. 
“ Night is at hand, and you are weary. Rest 
yourself at our house, at least for a few hours. 


THE BEGGAR BOY. I39 

Am I not right, Lasalle ? She cannot leave 
us now.” 

“ Certainly not,” replied Lasalle, heartily. 
“Take a sound sleep, my lady, and if the 
anxiety for your child gives you no peace, 
you can journey farther to-morrow. No re- 
fusal ! You will lose no time, as the stage- 
coach starts to-morrow for Dijon — and I will 
see that you are taken there free of charge, 
for the conductor is a good friend of mine — 
whence you will still have one-third of the 
journey to Paris. Be of good cheer! God 
will help you ! ” 

Marion consented, for Lasalle and his wife 
begged her so hard that she could not resist. 
For the first time since the parting from 
Louise she was surrounded by friends, and 
she yielded to their kind solicitations and 
tarried for the night. But the next morning 
she had no peace, nor did Lasalle detain her. 
He took her to the post-house, engaged her a 


140 MATERNAL LOVE. 

seat in the stage-coach for Dijon, and com- 
pelled her also to accept a few louis-d’ors, so 
that she might not be forced to appeal to the 
charity of strangers. Thus Marion departed, 
and Lasalle sent after her a hearty wish for 
her success. 

Day and night the coach traveled over hill 
and dale until it arrived at Dijon. As soon 
as she got out she continued her journey on 
foot, till, after several days, she came to Melun, 
whence she could reach Paris in one day. 
Thus far, hope and the love for her child had 
supported her courage, but now her strength 
gave way. Utterly worn out she sat down on 
a bench before a little inn in the suburb, and 
deliberated whether she should enter or pro- 
ceed to the next village, where, perhaps, a 
kind farmer would let her sleep, free of charge, 
in a stable or on a haymow. But night was 
approaching, the town was still an hour’s 
journey distant, and the poor, tired mother 


THE BEGGAR BOY. I4I 

shivered with cold, as winter had suddenly- 
set in with great severity, and her thin cloth- 
ing was not sufficient to withstand its chill 
blast. 

“Yes, I will remain,” she thought; “better 
to sacrifice a few francs than reach Paris weak 
and exhausted.” 

When she got up to enter the inn, a boy 
came up to her and said : “ Oh, good lady, I 
am sick ; let me pass the night in your house. 
I can go no farther ; I shall perish if you refuse 
me!” 

Marion stopped and looked at the boy. He 
was about fourteen or fifteen years of age ; his 
clothing was even more miserable than her 
own, but his eyes flashed with intelligence, 
and his entreaty touched Marion’s tender 
heart. 

“ I am a stranger here myself, and as poor 
as you, my boy,” she said ; “ I do not reside 
in this house.” 


142 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ But I,” said a man (who was just stepping 
into the door, and had heard Marion’s voice), 
with a harsh and rough voice — “ / am the 
master of the house !” 

The boy turned immediately to him, and 
begged him to give him a night’s lodging. 

“It is not my custom to harbor such a 
beggarly party !” blustered the landlord. 
“ Pack away instantly or I will set the dogs 
on you !” 

“Oh, have mercy on him, sir!” begged 
Marion. “ Look at the poor boy, how he 
shivers ! Have compassion on him ! He 
would perish during the night, and in this 
intense cold ! Receive him, and God will 
bless you for such an act of mercy !” 

“ I will do nothing of the kind ; away with 
him!” exclaimed the landlord. “Go in- 
stantly, rascal ! Away with you, knave !” 

The boy bit his lips, but said nothing, as 
he cast an angry look at the cruel landlord, 



r 







THE BEGGAR BOY. I43 

and turned to go. Marion felt the heartiest 
sympathy for the young lad. “ He is poor 
and helpless like myself,” she thought. “ He 
suffers like myself. Madelon, dear Madelon, 
you will forgive me if I interest myself in 
him! Wait, boy,” she said, hastening after 
him ; “ you shall not go away in the darkness 
of the night! Come, eat with me, and the 
landlord will give you a night’s lodging, if I 
pay for it !” 

“ Yes, if you pay for it!” said the landlord. 
“ But first of all let me see your money, 
for you have not the appearance of being 
rich !” 

“ Here is money,” replied Marion, showing 
him several franc-pieces; “and now come, 
poor lad ; come and refresh yourself!” 

The boy looked at Marion so gratefully 
that she felt herself well paid for her sacrifice. 

“ Thank you !” said the lad. “ May heaven 
repay you, for your kindness has saved my 


144 MATERNAL LOVE. 

life ! During the last few days I have been 
strolling about through the country begging, 
but have not received a sou. A few hard 
crusts of bread was all that I got. The 
people are cruel,” he added, in a low tone, so 
that Marion could hardly hear him ; “ but I 
deserve nothing better !” 

“ No matter !” said Marion. “ I know how 
hard it is to beg in vain. But I have also 
found some sympathy, and hence I cannot 
refuse when I behold misery, and can help. 
Come!” 

They entered the house and quietly took a 
seat in a corner of the dining-room. Here 
they enjoyed a dish of warm soup. Marion 
was soon satisfied, but the boy ate with a greed- 
iness that told her better than words could 
have done how much he had suffered. Hav- 
ing finished the meal, she gradually fell into 
a sort of reverie, and was soon thinking of 
her little Madelon, near whom, alas ! there 


THE BEGGAR BOY. I45 

was no kind heart that would care for her as 
her mother for the strange boy. 

The boy, meanwhile, sat looking at his 
benefactress with a penetration uncommon for 
one of his age. He seemed to read her sad 
thoughts, and seizing Marion’s hand, pressed 
it gently and said : “ Good lady, I see plainly 
that you are in trouble. It is true, I am very 
young ; nevertheless, I might give you some 
assistance if you will have confidence in me, 
and I am so grateful to you that I would 
gladly do anything for you I can.” 

Marion shook her head. “ You, no doubt, 
mean well, my boy,” she said, “ but no one 
can help me except God ! ” 

“ Who knows ?” replied the boy. “ If it is 
not a secret, tell me your trouble.” 

“ Oh, it is no secret,” replied Marion. “ I 
am seeking my child, my little Madelon, who 
has been lost in Paris ! ” 

“ Do you seek a child, a little girl ?” ex- 
13 K 


I46 MATERNAL LOVE. 

claimed the boy, with sparkling eyes. “ Tell 
me what sort of a child she is. I know Paris 
well, and at any rate I can help you search, 
and I will do it. Speak, dear lady, I beseech 
you !” 

Astonished at the zeal of the boy, Marion 
looked at him. His bright, intelligent eyes 
revealed so much sympathy and his offer was 
so kind that Marion could not refuse him; 
she told her misfortune, whilst the boy listened 
with great sympathy. 

“ Do you see,” he said, when Marion had 
ended — “ do you see how well it was that you 
yielded to my request? When you, good 
lady, interested yourself in me and took pity 
on me, you did not suppose that I, the miser- 
able beggar boy, would be able to repay your 
kindness !” 

“ Who are you ?” exclaimed Marion. 

“ Not much can be said for me,” replied the 
boy ; “ my name is Oliver, and, young as I 


THE BEGGAR BOY. 147 

am, I have been very bad. But I wished to 
reform myself, and for that reason I left Paris 
and went into the country to look for work, 
and to earn my bread in an honest way. But 
I did not succeed. I was turned off every- 
where because I had no certificate of good 
character, and without you I should have 
perished. But of this we will not speak, but 
of you — of your child ! The little Madelon 
is about six years of age, is she not ? ” 

“Yes!” replied the mother, in astonish- 
ment. “ How do you know that ? I did not 
tell you her age.” 

“No, but I guessed it,” replied Oliver. 
“ And she has flaxen hair, has she not ? 
— pretty flaxen ringlets falling down her 
neck ?” 

“Yes ! ” exclaimed Marion, with a trembling 
voice ; “ how do you know that ?” 

“ Calm yourself, good lady,” said Oliver, 
laughing. “You shall hear still more. Your 


148 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


little daughter wore a green silk cloak and a 
brown dress, did she not ?” 

“Yes, everything corresponds!” exclaimed 
Marion, trembling. “ Boy, you know where 
my Madelon is ! Speak ! Is she alive ? Is she 
well ? Is she out of danger ? Take me to 
her!” 

“ Calm yourself,” said Oliver again. “ Yes, 
I know where the little Madelon is ; I know 
her; I can assure you that she is well, although 
she sheds many tears, and constantly cries for 
her mother and Pierre; but to go to her is 
difficult, and requires the greatest precau- 
tion !” 

“ Pierre, did you say ?” cried Marion, trem- 
bling between fear and hope. “ What Pierre 
is that? You are not deceiving me? you are 
not trifling with my anxiety ?” 

“No, no; fear nothing!” replied Oliver. 
“ There is no mistake, no deception. Pierre 
doubtless found the little Madelon in Paris, 


THE BEGGAR BOY. 149 

and interested himself in her, as I know that 
she was stolen from him.” 

“ Stolen ? But why ?” exclaimed Marion. 

“Ah, good lady,” replied Oliver, “you 
little know the paths of crime ! Your Made- 
Ion, being a pretty child, is stolen and con- 
cealed for two or three years where no one 
suspects, and when the child is forgotten she is 
brought forth and educated in vice. First, she 
is instructed in begging, and in all sorts of 
tricks to excite the sympathy of the people. 
Her pretty face of itself speaks a touching lan- 
guage. But woe to her if she attempts to 
keep a sou for herself! She must deliver all, 
even to the last farthing ; and if she does not 
bring enough to satisfy the avarice of her 
employer, she is whipped and starved. And 
after she grows up, then she is taught to steal. 
She must sneak into houses and stores, or she 
will be again whipped and beaten. And if 
she does not, at last, fall into the clutches of 

13 * 


150 MATERNAL LOVE. 

the law, she sinks step by step into the depths 
of vice, until she perishes in sin and misery. 
But this only happens after her employers 
have gained by her all the profit that is possi- 
ble. And for such a purpose, has your dear 
little Madelon been stolen ! I am sure of it, 
for I know both who and where she is !” 

“ Oh, this is terrible !” exclaimed the poor 
mother, wringing her hands. “ I must rescue 
her ! I must save her from ruin ! My Made- 
Ion a thief — a criminal !” 

“ She shall not become one !” said the boy. 
“As you assisted me, so will I assist you, 
even at the risk of my life !” 

“ Would you, Oliver ?” exclaimed Marion, 
pressing the boy’s hand to her heart and cov- 
ering it with kisses. “ Then come ; let us go ! 
Paris is not far off, and we may even reach it 
to-night !” 

“ No, no ; don’t be in a hurry !” replied 
Oliver. “ You think too lightly of this thing. 


THE BEGGAR BOY. 1 5 1 

It cannot be done so quickly, good lady. It 
is possible, but it is attended with dangers of 
which you have no idea.” 

“ What dangers ?” exclaimed Marion, boldly. 
“ I fear no danger when the life of my child 
is at stake ! Come, Oliver ! come, boy, at 
once !” 

“ If you fear no danger for yourself, Lady 
Marion, consider the danger to your child,” 
said Oliver. “ No, no ; not so fast, good 
lady ! We must begin our enterprise with 
caution and coolness, or all may be lost past 
recovery.” 

“But what are we to do, then?” replied 
Marion. “ Stop ! A thought occurs to me ! 
The police-officer, Roland, at Paris, is a 
friend of mine ! Oliver, let us make use of 
the police ! It is powerful and will find my 
child for me !” 

“Yes — as a corpse!” replied Oliver, with 
gravity. “ No, good lady, we must keep the 


152 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


police out of the affair, if we would not fail at 
the very beginning. It is true, the police 
could enter by force into the den of thieves, 
but before they could get to the place where 
your Madelon is concealed, the little one 
would be quieted for ever, either by poison or 
by the knife. If you have courage to make 
the sacrifice and dare the danger, then I will 
promise to save the child.” 

“ I have courage, Oliver,” said the mother. 
“ I will spare no sacrifice, boy ! All, all for 
my child ! Speak ! Advise me ! Y ou shall 
see that I can dare death without fear !” 

“ Well, well, I believe you !” replied Oliver. 
“And yet you will most likely recoil with 
horror at what you will have to do ! You 
yourself must venture disguised into the den 
of thieves, and no one must suspect who you 
are. You will behold disgusting sights, and 
must not turn ycfur eyes from them, but must 
laugh at them! You must associate with 


THE BEGGAR BOY. 1 5 3 

vice as if it were your familiar companion ! 
You must become intimate with one of the 
most degraded of women ; and if you would 
rescue your child, you must fondle and fawn 
upon this woman, so that you may gain 
her confidence ! Consider well, good lady, 
whether you have sufficient strength and 
nerve to do all this. For if, by word or look, 
you should betray yourself, your death as 
well as mine would follow !” 

Marion shuddered ; neverthless she said, in 
a firm voice : “ Do not fear for me, Oliver ! I 
will think of my child, and the thought will 
strengthen me ! You — but a boy — know not 
what a mother can dare for her child ! Lead 
on ; I will follow !” 

“Good! You can trust me; I will give 
you aid,” replied Oliver. “ But more ! No 
one must suspect that you are a woman. 
You must, therefore, cut off your long hair 
and stain your face, hands and neck a dark 


154 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


brown ; you must put on boy’s clothes ; you 
must, in short, destroy your identity, so that 
you may pass as a comrade whom I picked 
up on my journey. Fortunately, they did 
not know that it was my intention for ever to 
abandon a life of crime. They will think 
that I only made a stealing raid into the 
country, and thus my return will appear quite 
natural. Ah, little did I think that I should 
once more enter such a place ! But for such 
a purpose it must be done ! You are kind to 
me, and I am grateful for your kindness. We 
will attempt a rescue if you have courage !” 

“ I have courage ! I will do anything ! I 
fear nothing !” said Marion, resolutely. 

“ Well,” replied Oliver, “ you shall be con- 
ducted to the place where she is concealed, 
and for the rest, we will have to rely upon 
the assistance of a higher power. It is set- 
tled, good lady ! To-morrow morning early 
we depart for Paris !” 



CHAPTER VII. 

MEETING AGAIN. 

HE next evening, about twilight, two 



boys were seen passing through the 
gates into the city of Paris. It was not diffi- 
cult to recognize Oliver in the one, but the 
keenest eye could not have detected in the 
other Marion, the faithful mother. Her short 
hair, dark complexion, and, more than all, her 
male attire, rendered any recognition of her 
identity almost impossible. 

Boldly she walked by the side of Oliver, 
who continued to instruct her how to conduct 
herself, and especially enjoined her to assume 
a confident air toward “ old Victory ,” the pro- 
prietress of this den of thieves. 


155 



156 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ Only remember always to call her ma- 
dame,” said he; “she is exceedingly vain, 
and if you are skillful in your flattery and 
compliments, you cannot fail to win her favor. 
And don’t forget that your name is now 
Robert. No one must suspect your disguise, 
or all will be lost! Have you the money 
which we intend to give to the old woman ?” 

“ Certainly ! ” replied Marion. “ Do not 
give yourself any concern about that, good 
Oliver ! I feel within me a strength and hope 
that can only come from God. Oh, Madelon, 
oh, my child, the thought of you enables 
me to overcome all difficulties !” 

“ Verily, you are a true mother!” sighed 
Oliver. “ Ah, why had I not such a 
mother ? ” 

“ Poor boy !” replied Marion. “ But I will 
be a mother to you if all succeeds! Yes, 
that I will, for you deserve it.” 

“ I ?” replied Oliver. “ Ah, you forget that 


MEETING AGAIN. 1 57 

I have been for years the companion of the 
most wicked people, to whom I am about to 
conduct you.” 

“ No, I have not forgotten it, boy,” said 
Marion. “ But I also think of what you told 
me about your efforts to keep yourself free 
from the sins of these wicked people. You 
cannot be blamed that when a child you fell 
into the hands of these wretched creatures. 
As yet you have not been a partaker of their 
sins. You have not robbed or stolen; you 
are only a beggar.” 

“ No, I have never robbed any one,” said 
Oliver. “ When they tried to force me into 
such wickedness I left them. I was horrified 
at the very thought of robbery. I will never, 
God helping me, be guilty of such a sin, for I 
see the end of those who take the road of 
crime ! But enough. We will not now think 
of Oliver, but only of you and of Madelon, 
the little captive. Be careful of your whole 

14 


I58 MATERNAL LOVE. 

demeanor, and of every word you speak. For 
consider that all depends upon a successful 
disguise.” 

“ I have considered it all the way of our 
journey,” answered Marion. “ No look, or 
gesture, or abhorrent shudder shall betray the 
purpose for which I have entered the society 
of criminals. Come ! only come ! To rescue 
her child from such a horde of ruffians and 
from such a future, every true mother would 
risk her life. Let us hasten, Oliver ! I long 
for the moment of trial, and surely God will 
give me strength to endure it !” 

“We are at our journey’s end,” he said, 
softly. “Do not forget you are now Called 
Robert, and that you are an orphan boy from 
the neighborhood of Milan !” 

A firm grasp of the hand was Marion’s 
only answer. Oliver drew a long breath, and 
then pulled the bell in a peculiar way — one, 
two, three times. Instantly shuffling steps 


MEETING AGAIN. 


159 


were heard in the house ; a bolt was drawn, 
and a sharp, grating voice asked : “ Who is 
there ?” 

" Oliver, the Satan’ s-finger !” replied the 
boy. “ Open, old Victory ! I bring money 
and company !” 

“ Vagabond, where have you been keeping 
yourself these days ?” replied the voice from 
within, whilst other bolts were drawn aside. 
“ We thought you had deserted us, or that 
you had been found out by the blood-hounds 
of the police, and that we would never see 
you again ! Where have you been ? Hold ! 
who is that boy there ?” 

“ Who should it be ?” replied Oliver, fear- 
lessly, to the old woman, who, meanwhile, 
had opened the door and held a burning taper 
before the face of the boy’s companion — 
“who should it be, old mother? A recruit 
called Robert! A cunning boy who is al- 
ready light-fingered ! There are two louis- 


i6o 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


d’ors ! I thought the boy was good for us, 
and brought him along. If he does not 
please you, mother, send him away at once !” 

“ Oh, madame !” said Marion, boldly, and 
looked the ugly old woman in the face with 
a daring, bold eye, “dear, good madame, 
you certainly will not send me away! You 
will give me a trial first, will you not ? It is 
true, I cannot do much as yet; but I have 
the will, and Oliver has told me so much 
about you that I would gladly remain with 
you !” 

“ Has he ? the rogue, the good-for-nothing 
fellow, the scamp of a boy !” replied the old 
woman, with repulsive grimaces of friendli- 
ness. “ Well, we will see ! You are a pretty 
boy! You bring money with you! Well, 
walk in ; you shall have something to eat and 
drink ! Come, come !” 

“Ah, how kind you are, good Madame 
Victory!” exclaimed Marion, with affected 


MEETING AGAIN. 


161 

smiles, and then taking the dirty hand of the 
woman, she drew it to her lips. “I thank 
you, dear mother ! I will love you dearly ; 
yes, that I will !” 

“ Rogue !” exclaimed the old woman, and, 
with a vulgar laugh, patted Marion on the 
shoulder. “ Look ; you please me ! You are 
far more polite than that blockhead Oliver! 
Well, only walk in ! You may for the present 
remain here, and we will see what is to be 
done with you. Walk in quickly ; it is cold ! 
Go before, Oliver. Show the handsome boy 
the way !” 

Oliver at once seized Marion’s hand and 
led her through a. long passage leading to a 
back room, from which came sounds of vul- 
gar songs and revelry. Meanwhile, the old 
woman carefully locked the door. 

“Well done!” whispered the boy to Marion. 
“ Now we are safe ; for if the old woman once 
takes a liking to any one, she is ever well 

14 * L 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


162 

disposed to him afterward. Only continue as 
you have begun.” 

Oliver now opened the room door, and 
entered, with his companion, into a spacious 
apartment, from which came the most offen- 
sive fumes. Men and women sat here and 
there at tables, engaged in singing or talk- 
ing or playing cards. With all her firmness, 
Marion was not a little horrified as she en- 
tered into this society of low and abandoned 
people, and it required the sweetest thoughts 
of her little Madelon to maintain her self- 
possession. But her maternal love inspired 
her with fortitude. She overcame her fear 
and disgust, and sat down beside Oliver, who 
had taken a seat at one of the tables. Twenty 
piercing eyes were at once turned upon her, 
but she returned their suspicious glances with 
an unquailing look, and even an affected 
smile. 

“ Halloa, Oliver, what is the meaning of 


MEETING AGAIN. 1 63 

this ?” cried some one, in a harsh, guttural 
voice, to the boy. “ Do you regard our house 
as a public rendezvous, that you bring your 
comrade with you ?” 

“What is that to you, churl, if Mother 
Victory is agreed to it?” replied Oliver, 
boldly. “ Hold your tongue, or mother will 
silence it for you !” 

“ Insolent scamp !” roared a burly fellow, 
jumping up as if to lay violent hands on 
Oliver. But the boy remained quietly in his 
seat, and only leered upon the old woman, 
who shortly before had entered the room, 
and, with her arms akimbo, was now looking 
on with a face flushed with anger. 

“ Quiet there !” she exclaimed, with a mas- 
culine voice — “ quiet, impudent fellow, and 
start no quarrel with the boy! You vaga- 
bond ! For eight days you have not handed 
over to me a single sou, and yet you dare to 
speak like a braggart against Satan’s-finger, 


164 MATERNAL LOVE. 

who has put money into my pocket ! Never 
dare it again! Down with you, or not an- 
other drop of liquor shall moisten your 

lips r 

The resolute manner of the old woman, and 
especially her last threat, abashed the fellow. 
He sat down again at his place, mumbling to 
himself : “ But it is not according to order to 
allow every silly boy to enter here !” 

“Aha!” broke out the old woman anew; 
“you probably intend to tell me whom I am 
to receive into my house and whom I am to 
cast out! Then you will have to get up 
earlier, churl ! I ought to know best who 
suits here, and now shut your filthy mouth ! 
Yes, yes, my boy” — turning to Robert — 
“ you will soon know who has the command 
here, and let no one frighten you ! It is my 
will that you remain here, and that ends the 
matter! Do you understand it, you idlers, 
you rogues, you good-for-nothing rabble? 


MEETING AGAIN. 165 

Be of good cheer, my boy! Nobody shall 
hurt a hair of your head against my will !” 

“ Ah, madame, how thankful I am to you !” 
said Marion, with her blandest smile. “ Yes, 
certainly, I will trust implicitly to your pro- 
tection !” and again kissed the hand of the old 
woman. “ But I hope, when these gentlemen 
here will learn to know me better, they will 
no longer be angry with me.” 

“ Angry!” said the old woman, gruffly. 
“Woe to the man who shall look with an 
evil eye upon my boy ! Who interferes with 
him interferes with me ! Watch, Oliver — 
Satan’s-finger ! Let no harm come to your 
comrade ! The boy has good manners, and 
he pleases me !” 

At this she turned about and brought a 
dish of meat and a jug of wine. “Eat and 
drink, boys,” she said ; “ you have earned it ! 
And I see already that you are mutually 
suited, and shall always accompany each 


1 66 MATERNAL LOVE. 

other in the pursuit of gain. There ! refresh 
yourselves.” 

It is true, Marion felt disgusted with the 
very idea of eating in the society of these 
gamblers and thieves, and was about to push 
the dish away from her ; but a look from Oli- 
ver checked the sudden impulse, and regain- 
ing her self-control, she partook of the re- 
freshments, which she praised very much. 
Old Victory listened to her with evident satis- 
faction, and seemed to be wonderfully pleased 
with Marion’s beautiful face. 

“ All right, all right,” she said ; “ we will 
live agreeably together, I hope.” 

With these words she went to the bar, 
which stood in one corner of the room, and 
dismissing Oliver and Marion from her mind, 
gave her attention to the guests. Their num- 
ber gradually increased, and as all wanted 
either food or drink, or both, Victory did a 
profitable business. Marion quietly observed 


MEETING AGAIN. 1 67 

the doings of these people, and restrained any 
outward expression of her disgust. 

“ It will prove successful, Oliver,” she said, 
after a while, softly, to the boy. “ It is true, 
my inmost heart revolts at the sight of these 
people, but I will try to keep a sunny face 
and pleasant looks. And now I am going to 
offer my services to Victory in helping her to 
wait on the people.” 

“ Do ! that is a capital idea !” replied Oliver, 
quickly. “ She will consider it a great favor, 
and by it we shall perhaps be able to carry 
out our plan more speedily.” 

Marion rose at once and approached the 
old woman, who, burdened with dishes and 
tumblers and bottles, was hastening from one 
table to another. 

“ Permit me, dear madame,” she said, cour- 
teously ; “ I have finished my meal, and would 
like to help you.” 

“ Would you, indeed?” replied the woman, 


l68 MATERNAL LOVE. 

in her most friendly manner. “ I must say that 
you have the right respect for old age, my 
son. Well, you may help me. There ! carry 
this wine to that red-haired fellow yonder, 
and this dish of sausages to that roaring 
churl ! He bawls as if he would burst. And 
mind, let no one give you a saucy word, for I 
am ‘old Victory/ and you are under my 
protection. Now take it, boy, quickly !” 

Marion took it, and attended to the business 
she had voluntarily undertaken with an apt- 
ness and a quickness that raised her still higher 
in the esteem of the mistress of the establish- 
ment. Of course she was disgusted with the 
vulgar rudeness of this company, and her 
delicate womanly feelings were all the while 
wounded. But she said to herself, “ I must 
endure all this for the sake of Madelon,” and 
then gave renewed attention to the old 
woman’s customers. 

Marion could not have adopted a surer 


MEETING AGAIN. l6g 

method of gaining the favor of the ugly Vic- 
tory than the one which was prompted by 
maternal instinct. And besides, it had this 
advantage, that whilst it left her comparatively 
unobserved, it gave opportunity as she went 
to different parts of the room to make such 
observations as might afterward be of great 
service to her. The boisterous festivity in 
the den of thieves continued till after mid- 
night, when gradually the guests retired to 
their various lodgings in the house, until 
Oliver, Marion and Victory were left alone in 
the room. 

“ This will do,” said Victory, after they had 
put the room in order. “ You can go to rest. 
Oliver, take the boy with you into your room. 
To-night he may sleep there, but after to- 
morrow he must sleep with me in the ante- 
chamber. I intend to do well for the lad. He 
can be more useful to me in the house than 

abroad, and I have long wished for a boy 
15 


170 MATERNAL LOVE. 

who could assist me in attending to the 
guests.” 

“ Good-night, dear madame, good-night !” 
said Marion, and quickly departed with 
Oliver. A small closet, in which there stood 
an old arm-chair and a bed, was their place 
of lodging. Oliver locked the door after him, 
and then, with a pleasant smile, approached 
his comrade, who sat in a melancholy mood, 
with her head upon her hand. 

“Why so sorrowful, Marion?” whispered 
the boy. “ Everything is going on well ! 
Victory is happily deceived, and you con- 
ducted yourself admirably this evening ! 
Courage, good, faithful mother ! The success 
of our project appears more certain to me 
now than I ever dared to hope !” 

“ But how,” asked Marion — “ how are we 
to remove the child from the house, when so 
many eyes are watching us? My hope is 
less now than before, and it has cost me great 


MEETING AGAIN. 


171 

exertion, with my feelings of depression, to 
keep up the dissimulation. Ah, Oliver, it 
will be difficult for us to carry out our plans !” 

“ Patience, patience !” replied the boy. 
“ Only continue to establish yourself in the 
confidence of old Victory. It may not be 
long before you will be allowed to see your 
daughter, and perhaps Victory will commit 
her altogether to your care, and entrust you 
with the keys to her cell. If we once 
gain them, we can manage the drunkards in 
the house more easily than you suppose. 
Only be patient and courageous, and the vic- 
tory is certain. Of course it will be difficult 
for you — so pure of heart — to endure the 
grossness of these people ; but consider, it is 
only a temporary sacrifice of your feelings, 
which looks to a blessed reward. Courage, 
dear lady, and all will end well !” 

“ Doubt not my courage,” replied Marion. 
“ Love for my child will give me strength to 


1^2 MATERNAL LOVE. 

overcome ! Oh blessed thought ! I am now 
under the same roof with Madelon ! I won- 
der whether she suspects her mother is near?” 

“ Patience !” said Oliver. “ I doubt not but 
that you shall soon see her ! But that mo- 
ment — so happy to you — is the very one that 
I most fear. Do you think you will be able 
to control your feelings at the sight of the 
child? Be careful not to arouse Victory’s 
suspicion, for that would be ruin to us !” 

“ I know it, and I will endeavor, by the 
help of God, to control my feelings when the 
happy moment comes !” replied Marion. 
“ Oh, if it were only here ! Surely, Oliver, I 
will be able to endure this trial !” 

“ Heaven grant it !” said Oliver. “ But you 
must be very much exhausted by the labors 
and excitements of the day, so go and take 
your rest, for to-morrow will bring with it 
new trials.” 

Marion felt that she needed rest, and soon 


MEETING AGAIN. 173 

reposed her weary limbs upon the bed, whilst 
Oliver nestled himself in the arm-chair. Thus 
they slept until the shrill voice of old Victory 
roused them to renewed activity. 

Marion’s trial was keen and oppressive. 
Not only had she to live in the midst of 
scenes the most painful and abhorrent to 
her refined and womanly sensibilities, but in 
the constant dread of discovery, which would 
have given her over, if not to death, to im- 
prisonment for life. But heavy as was the 
trial, she never faltered. Love gave her 
strength and endurance, so that she kept up 
the unnatural dissimulation until the time 
came for such true maternal love to receive 
its reward. 

The attachment of old Victory to Robert — 
as Marion was called in this den of thieves — 
became so strong that the pretended boy 
was admitted to her most intimate and unre- 
served confidence. One day she took Marion 


174 MATERNAL LOVE. 

by the hand and conducted her, through 
various apartments, to one of the most distant 
rooms in the large, old-fashioned building. 

“ Here we have a little girl, and I will 
place her under your care,” she said to 
Marion. “ I am getting old, and this running 
hither and thither is fatiguing to me, but you 
are young and can attend to her as well as 
myself. You will have nothing to do but to 
take the child her meals daily, and to take 
care that she does not become melancholy in 
her loneliness, because that may be injurious 
to her beauty, which may be of great use to 
us hereafter.” 

“ I understand,” replied Marion, in a sub- 
dued voice. She trembled with emotion, and 
was ready to faint, as she thought of the 
meeting so near at hand. But then it was the 
crisis of her conflict, and she must triumph in 
the struggle or all would be lost. She tried 
to calm the tumult of her mind ; she pressed 


MEETING AGAIN. 175 

her hand upon her throbbing heart; she 
fervently prayed that God, for Christ’s sake, 
would grant her strength and resolution. 

Victory opened the door. Marion cast a 
hasty glance into the apartment. She saw 
flaxen ringlets, a' gentle form ; and now the 
little one turned her face to the door. Yes, 
yes, it was. Madelon, the long-sought-for 
child ! 

The mother, unable to control her feelings, 
uttered one subdued scream at the sight of 
her beloved child. Victory looked at her 
with surprise. Marion saw that everything 
was at stake, and, with an artifice just suited 
to the peril of the moment, she repeated the 
scream, with the exclamation : “ How strange ! 
I know this little one ! Did I not see her 
once at the circus-riders’ ?” 

“ Exactly so !” replied Victory, so luckily 
beguiled ; not dreaming that Oliver had in- 
formed Marion how she had obtained posses- 


176 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


sion of the child — “ exactly so ! It was from 
there we kidnapped the child, because she 
was such a charming little beauty. Now, 
Madelon, be cheerful ! Here is Robert, who, 
in my place, will hereafter visit and take care 
of you ! Give him your hand, and behave 
yourself well ! Do you understand ?” 

With a sad countenance Madelon reached 
out her hand, which was warmly grasped by 
Marion. “ She is so neat,” she said to Vic- 
tory, in order to conceal her emotion. “ Come, 
little one! Be cheerful! Laugh, shout, 
leap ! Be lively !” 

“That is right, my boy,” said Victory, 
with evident satisfaction. “ Manage the little 
one in that way, and she will soon become 
cheerful and happy. Play with this lad, 
Madelon! I will let him remain an hour 
with you !” 

“ I do not like to play ; I am sorrowful !” 
replied the little one. “ I want to go to my 


MEETING AGAIN. 1 77 

mother or to Pierre ! Let me go away, old 
lady ! I will not stay here !” 

“ Oh yes, you will !” replied Victory, laugh- 
ing. “ Only be patient ! In less than six 
months you will become reconciled to your 
place. Lively, Robert! Try to put other 
ideas into her head ; and if you succeed in 
making her contented and cheerful, it will be 
remembered by me to your advantage. You 
can remain here for one hour, and I will 
then call for you.” 

With these words she departed, and Marion 
was left alone with her child. As soon as 
Victory’s footsteps died away in the distance 
she rushed to Madelon, caught her up in her 
arms, pressed the child to her bosom, covered 
her sweet little face with kisses, whilst tears 
of joy fell upon her ringlets. “Oh Father 
in heaven !” she exclaimed; “what joy, what 
happiness ! I shall die of ecstasy !” 

A little more and she would have dis- 
M 


I78 MATERNAL LOVE. 

closed herself to Madelon; but happily the 
child restored her to her accustomed pru- 
dence. 

“ You are so good,” said the little one, and 
fondly stroked the cheeks of the happy 
mother. “Take me away from this place, 
will you ?” 

These few words brought Marion to a sense 
of her critical condition. She managed to 
control her feelings, and carefully watched 
every word. If Madelon should recognize 
her mother, and in her simplicity betray the 
secret, how dreadful would be the results ! 
With this cautionary dread, Marion repressed 
her ecstatic feelings and only embraced the 
child silently, with tears and caresses, which 
Madelon lovingly returned. 

“ How good you are,” she said, “ and what 
a lovely voice you have ! If you were not a 
boy, I should think you were my mother! 
She spoke exactly like you, and was just as 


MEETING AGAIN. 179 

kind to me. Ah, if I only could go to her 
again !” 

“Have patience, dear, dear child!” replied 
Marion, laughing and weeping at the same 
time for joy. “ You surely know that God 
protects good children, and he will protect 
you !” 

“Yes, that my dear mother always told 
me !” said the little one, and looked thought- 
fully at Marion. “Yes, yes; of course you 
are not my mother, yet I love you, love you 
dearly, and shall no longer be so sorrowful ; 
that is, if you will come to me every day ! 
Will you do that ?” 

“ Yes, yes, that I will ; as often as I can !” 
replied the happy mother. “But then you 
will have to be very kind to Madame Victory, 
or she will not allow it !” 

“ Yes, that I will ! I will smile and say 
‘dear madame’ to her, and even kiss her 
ugly hand !” said the little one. “ And then 


i8o 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


you will come right often, and we will talk 
together !” 

“ Certainly, certainly !” replied Marion, and 
again caressed her child and continued talk- 
ing. She was quite startled at the return of 
Victory, for she had no idea of time when 
with her child. The little Madelon rushed 
toward her with a joyful countenance and 
really kissed her hand. Victory looked at 
her with astonishment. 

“ See here, boy, do you know,” she said to 
Marion, “ that this is the first time Madelon 
has smiled since she has been with us ?” 

“Aye, yes!” said the little one; “but 
Robert is so good to me, dear madame, so 
good ! If he would remain with me, I would 
always be happy !” 

“ That is the way to talk, little one !” re- 
plied Victory, very graciously. “ Well, if he 
cannot always be with you, he shall come 
often, if you will only behave yourself. Yes, 


MEETING AGAIN. 1 8 1 

that he shall ! And you too shall soon be 
allowed to come forth from your cage ! But 
come, Robert, the guests are waiting.” 

Marion cast another look at her child, and 
then followed Victory. Her heart was now 
light and joyous, as she had seen Madelon 
again, and knew that she was living and well. 

Several weeks passed away without any 
opportunity of escape. But Marion waited 
patiently, and kept up the unnatural dissimu- 
lation even toward Madelon, for she must not 
know that it was her mother who came daily 
to see her. One day Oliver came with a joy- 
ous face, and whispered to Marion : 

“ This night the band intend to go out on 
some wicked enterprise, and Victory will be 
left alone in the house. Take this package. 
It contains a powder to produce sleep. This 
evening mix it with the wine for the old 
woman. The hour of rescue has come, but 

we must be very careful or all may fail.” 

16 


1 82 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


One look assured Oliver that he might 
trust Marion to do her part. At midnight all 
the men suddenly left the house. Victory 
accompanied them as far as the door, and 
during this time Marion mixed the soporifer- 
ous powder with Victory’s wine. She had 
scarcely done this before the old woman re- 
turned and with one draught emptied the 
glass. Marion breathed freely again, and 
busied herself about the room to conceal her 
feelings. Victory soon felt the effects of the 
powder. “ Quick, Robert!” she said. “ I am 
sleepy! Extinguish the lights and go to 
bed.” 

“ Do you go, madame,” replied Marion. 
“ I will stay and put things in order, so that 
you may find the room ready for you to- 
morrow morning. Only let me do this, for I 
am not sleepy.” 

“ Brave boy!” mumbled the old woman; 
“ always active, always ready for work ! Very 


MEETING AGAIN. 1 83 

well. Take care that the lights are all put 
out and then come, for you need rest.” 

With these words she retired to her room, 
overcome with sleep. Scarcely had she gone 
when Oliver came creeping from behind the 
bar, where he had kept himself concealed. 

“All goes on well,” he said, rubbing his 
hands joyfully. “ In one hour from this we 
will be free and in safety !” 

“ And why not go to work at once ?” asked 
Marion, trembling with anxiety to rescue her 
child. 

“ Because Victory has the key of the house 
under her pillow, and without it we cannot 
escape,” replied Oliver. “ She must first be 
soundly asleep before you can venture to get 
the key.” 

“That is true,” said Marion. “We must 
have patience.” 

Slowly the hour passed away. At last 
Marion resolutely seized a light, and walked 


184 MATERNAL LOVE. 

with a firm but gentle step into the sleeping 
apartment of the dreaded Victory. She well 
knew that in this moment all was at stake. 
She knew that if Victory should wake there 
would be an end of their scheme, if not of 
their lives ; but her maternal love was stronger 
than her fear. In the ante-chamber she 
placed the candlestick upon a table, quickly 
opened the door, and softly approached the 
bed. Her heart beat faster as she reached 
out her hand for the key. She made one 
grasp and it was hers. Victory slept so 
soundly that Marion glided out of the room 
like a shadow, locked the door after her, and 
hastened to her child. Oliver accompanied 
her. They found Madelon asleep, with tears 
on her cheeks, and as Marion took her into 
her arms, the child, in her first waking, looked 
about her wildly, as if in a dream. 

“ What do you want, Robert ?” she asked. 
“ It is still night !” 


MEETING AGAIN. 


185 


“Yes, yes, my child!” replied the happy 
mother, in a whispering tone. “ Only be 
quiet : don’t speak ! I want to take you to 
your mother ; but you must be very quiet !” 

“ I am quiet already !” said the little one, 
softly. “ Oh, my mother ! I shall see my 
mother again ! Quick, quick ; take me to 
her!” 

There was no need of further persuasion. 
Marion hastily departed with her child. She 
flew through the halls and corridors. Oliver 
opened the door of the house for her, and 
there was no one to hinder. In a moment they 
stood in the open air in the street, with the 
prison behind them, and in one loud scream 
Marion gave vent to her pent-up feelings. 

“ Madelon, my child !” she exclaimed. “ I 
am your mother, and you are free ! Merciful 
God, I thank thee !” 

“ Enough ! Not another word !” said 

Oliver. “Follow me closely; we shall not 
16 * 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


1 86 

be perfectly safe until we are far away from 
this house of crime !” 

Marion saw the necessity of silence. She 
pressed the child to her heart, and, at the side 
of Oliver, hastened on in the darkness of the 
night. All without was dark, but in Marion’s 
heart there was light, for the mother had 
found her lost child. Yes, Madelon was 
found, and the little heart, in its quickened 
pulses, was now touching hers. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

THE END. 

T3 EFORE Oliver undertook the rescue, he 
had provided a place of refuge, to which 
he now conducted the happy mother, with her 
child. It was a small, unfurnished room in a 
remote part of the city, but Marion felt serene 
and happy as if in a little heaven. Oliver 
shared with her the joy of success in a most 
perilous enterprise, but his joy was shaded 
with anxieties about the future. 

“ What is to be done now ?” he asked the 
next morning, somewhat sadly. “ Here we 
are without money or work, and we cannot 
live on air. What shall we do ?” 

“ Never mind,” replied Marion, carelessly. 

187 



1 88 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


“ Since I have recovered my dear Madelon I 
feel no further fear or care. I have a gold 
pin which you can sell, and after we have 
spent the proceeds we will see what is next 
to be done. My Madelon, my sweet little 
Madelon, since I have recovered you I will 
cheerfully endure all the sufferings which the 
Lord may appoint me ! Darling child ! be- 
loved, dearest Madelon ! Oh what joy fills 
my heart as I look into your face, press you 
to my heart and cover your sweet lips with 
kisses !” 

Oliver shook his head, but felt he must 
not cast a shadow over the sacred joy of the 
happy mother, and hastened to dispose of the 
gold pin. He sold it for a small sum, made 
a few purchases of several articles of nourish- 
ment, and then returned to Marion. They 
lived on their scanty means without any con- 
cern for the future, until all the money was 
spent. 


THE END. 


189 


“ What now ?” asked Oliver. . 

“Yes, what now?” repeated Marion, 
thoughtfully, casting a tender look on little 
Madelon, who was playing with an old news- 
paper — “yes, what now? Is there nothing 
else we can sell, Oliver ?” 

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “ I know 
of nothing.” Both were silent. 

“ Look here, mother, at the large letters !” 
said Madelon, suddenly interrupting the 
silence. 

Marion looked at the newspaper with an 
exclamation of joy. “ Now we shall no 
longer want !” 

“ How so ?” asked Oliver, with surprise. 

“ Look here at this largely-printed notice. 
It is an advertisement for an exhibition to be 
given in the suburbs by my old friend, Le- 
maire ! Quick, Oliver ! Now we are beyond 
all need! Father Lemaire will receive us 
with great pleasure! How fortunate for us 


I9O MATERNAL LOVE. 

that he is just now in Paris! Come, let us 
go to him !” 

Oliver was ready at once, and they soon 
found the abode of Lemaire. As Marion ex- 
pected, she was received with a hearty wel- 
come, and Louise wept for joy at meeting 
again her beloved Marion. The joy reached 
its height when Marion declared her inten- 
tion to remain with her friends and share with 
them their fortunes. 

“Well done! Well done!” exclaimed 
Father Lemaire, joyfully. “ Now our star of 
hope will rise again ! We have not had 
much success, but now the tide of prosperity 
will set in again, and our treasury will be 
full ! Florentine, hasten to the printing-office 
and attend to the advertisements, and we shall 
repeat the splendid success we had at 
Chalons !” 


“ But the sweet little Madelon ?” said 


THE END. I9I 

Louise. “ Do you not intend to entrust the 
child to your uncle ?” 

“ No, never !” replied Marion. “ Never ! 
I will never part again with my jewel ! The 
first separation cost me too much sorrow; 
besides, who knows whether Count Narbonne 
will interest himself in the little one ?” 

“But do you not know that Count Nar- 
bonne has issued a proclamation in the news- 
papers, offering a high reward for any informa- 
tion respecting the lost child ?” said Louise. 
“Yes, we have read it! Consider well, 
Marion, what you are doing !” 

“ I have decided,” replied Marion, after a 
little reflection. No, I will never separate 
myself again from my child. I would be in 
constant anxiety for her welfare. No, no; 
we will remain with you, unless you send us 
away !” 

“ Then you will never leave us !” replied 
Louise, pleasantly. “We are happy to have 


I92 MATERNAL LOVE. 

you with us, and we will love you and your 
child as if you were our sister !” 

So it was settled that Marion should not 
go to her uncle, but remain with Lemaire, and 
take her former part in his exhibition, for the 
support of her child. As she again appeared 
in public, she renewed the old enthusiasm of 
the people; the papers were full of compli- 
mentary notices of her performances, and 
Father Lemaire was cheerful. He was not 
deceived in his expectations. Money literally 
poured in upon him, and whenever Madame 
Chlorinde appeared the house could not hold 
the people. 

It happened one evening that Marion per- 
formed a part in which she appeared with a 
child. The child was her own little Madelon. 
She had scarcely begun to speak, when sud- 
denly there came an outcry from one of the 
boxes and another from the gallery, to the 
serious interruption of the play. 


THE END. 


193 


" Marion !” one voice cried. 

“ Madelon, dear little Madelon !” the other 
shouted. 

“ Silence !” roared the indignant audience. 

The performance went on ; but suddenly 
there appeared upon the platform two persons 
from different directions, and who evidently 
did not belong to the performers. The one 
— a fine-looking boy — impulsively seized 
little Madelon ; the other embraced Marion. 
The audience grew angry. Father Lemaire 
tried in vain to expel the strangers, and in 
the confusion which followed, the perform- 
ances of the evening ended. 

“ Madelon, sweet little one, have I at last 
found you ?” exclaimed Pierre. “ Don’t you 
know your old friend ?” 

“ How could I forget you ?” said Madelon, 
with a face beaming with smiles. “ Look 
here, mother ; this is Pierre, my good 
Pierre !” 

17 3ST 


194 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


Marion did not hear. She was lying in the 
arms of the strange gentleman, who was un- 
ceasing in his fond caresses. “ Marion, you 
naughty child !” he said. “ How long and 
anxiously we have sought, and how happy at 
last to find you !” 

“But, gracious count — ” 

“Nonsense, count!” exclaimed the stranger. 
“ Your uncle, dear child ! I am your uncle! 
Give me always this name! You have much 
to forgive, but I was mistaken, and was not 
undeceived until my return from Italy ! Now 
I know all ! I know that you are innocent 
of any intentional wrong ; know that you in- 
tended to entrust your child to me ; know all 
until the moment you left my house, resolved 
never to return. We longed for you ; wept 
for you, Marion; we did everything to find 
you out. The fame of Chlorinde attracted us 
to the exhibition, and here, as if directed by 
Providence, we have found you, so long and 


THE END. I95 

painfully lost! Forgive me, dear Marion! 
From this time you shall be one of our house- 
hold again, and we will seek by love to repair 
the injury we have done you ! Will you fol- 
low me, Marion ?” 

“Yes, gladly, my uncle,” replied Marion, 
“ were it only for the sake of the child ! 
Madelon, Madelon, where are you ?” 

“ Here, mother ! Only look here ! This 
is Pierre, of whom I have told you so much !” 

“ Pierre ? Oh thanks !” exclaimed Marion, 
as she embraced the boy. “You, you are the 
one who had pity upon/my poor little daugh- 
ter when she was helpless and alone in the 
streets of Paris ! Dear, dear boy ! how can I 
thank you ? Only look here, uncle ; this is 
the boy to whom I am indebted for the safety, 
the preservation of my child !” 

“ He shall find me thankful, also ; yes, that 
he shall !” said Count Narbonne. “ But now 
let us all go to my house, so that my good 


I96 MATERNAL LOVE. 

wife may rejoice with us. She will be so 
happy ! Come, follow me !” 

All resistance was in vain. Marion, Made- 
Ion, Oliver and Pierre had to go with the 
count, and Father Lemaire promised to join 
them the next day. Their arrival made quite 
a sensation. The countess received Marion 
as a sister, and old Martin was overjoyed at 
her return. The evening was passed in listen- 
ing to the wonderful adventures of Marion, 
and it was late when Pierre returned to the 
house of his mother to tell her of his good 
fortune, and that Maition and her child were 
coming to see them the next morning. 

Early the next day a coach stopped at the 
house of Mme. Thierry, when Marion, her 
little daughter, Count Narbonne and the 
countess alighted and entered the little room 
that had once offered a refuge to Madelon. 
With an exclamation of joy, Madelon rushed 
to the arms of Mme. Thierry, who, weeping 


THE END. I97 

tears of happiness, lovingly pressed the child 
to her heart. 

“ Good lady,” said Marion, with deep emo- 
tion, “ where shall I find words to express 
my thanks ? You were so kind to my child ! 
Never, never shall I be able to repay your 
kindness !” 

Mme. Thierry rose to her feet, stared in 
wonder at Marion, and exclaimed : “ What do 
I see? You the mother of the sweet little 
one ! I have not been deceived ! Marion, 
darling child, do you not remember your old 
nurse, Jeanette?” 

“Jeanette! Good Jeanette! Truly, you 
are Jeanette !” exclaimed Marion, in the great- 
est surprise. “Dear, good Jeanette, I thought 
you were in your grave long ago ! What 
happiness to see you again !” 

“ God be praised that I have lived to see 
this blessed moment!” exclaimed the trusty 

woman, with tears. “ Child, beloved child, I 
17 * 


I98 MATERNAL LOVE. 

am so happy ! Quick, Pierre, the caskets ! 
Marion, you will see that I have been faithful 
to my trust !” 

Pierre, having anticipated his mother, had 
already placed the caskets upon the table. 

“ All this is yours !” she continued rap- 
turously. “ I have preserved it for you ! I 
knew very well that you would return at some 
future day ! Take it ; it is the hereditary por- 
tion of your unfortunate, noble father, the 
Count Saint Foix!” 

“ Truly, thrs is a wonderful providence of 
God !” exclaimed the Count Narbonne, deeply 
moved. “These diamonds and, still more, 
these papers — how we searched for them ! 
Marion, what a fortune ! These papers re- 
store to you as a possession all the estates of 
your father! The government has hitherto 
managed them ; but now you have only to pre- 
sent these documents and they revert to you 
as your rightful inheritance. How myster- 


THE END. 


I 99 


ious are the ways of providence ! It was love 
that prompted Marion to give up her child ; 
it was love that received her ; it was the faith- 
ful love of a mother that, regardless of all 
hardships, wearisome journeyings and perils 
of life itself, never gave up the search for her 
child until that love was crowned with suc- 
cess, and held in its embrace the object that 
was dearer than life. Marion, dear Marion, 
God has blessed you! You have your re- 
ward r 

Marion pressed her child to her heart and 
silently prayed to the God of the widow and 
the orphan, and praised him for his wonder- 
ful grace and mercy. She had reached the 
end of her trials as a mother; and whilst 
weeping endured for the night, joy came in 
the morning. Her heart was full of grateful 
thoughts of the goodness of the Lord, and 
her lips were full of his praise. 

But Marion was not alone in this blessing 


200 


MATERNAL LOVE. 


of heaven. All who shared with her their 
sympathy and kindly help, in the time of need 
and sorrow, were now the happy participants 
of her joys and unlooked-for fortunes. 

Marion now lives in her ancestral home, 
with Madelon, her dearest jewel ; with Pierre 
and his mother; Father Lemaire and his 
whole family, including the good and faithful 
Louise ; and the valiant Oliver, through whose 
courage Madelon had been rescued from the 
hands of the wicked. This is now the family 
in the old mansion. Count Narbonne and 
his wife often mingle in this circle of grateful 
friends ; and it would be hard to find, in the 
wide world, a happier group of loving hearts 
than these whom a kind Providence gathered 
from their various trials and separations into 
a happy household in the old homestead. 

Love had conquered at last ; for 


“(Sob is loue” 


1855 . 


1870 . 



LUTHERAN PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

No. 42 NORTH NINTH STREET, PHILADELPHIA. 

JT. K. ShryocJc, Superintendent . 


E take pleasure in announcing to the 
Church and to the Trade in general, that 
we have commenced the publication of 
the 

jjiitiuT taint juries, 

as follows: 

‘THE COTTAGE by THE LAKE.” 

Translated from the German of Martin Claudius, by 
Miss R. H. Schively. “When the need is sorest God’s 
help is nearest.” 

16mo, Cloth, a Beautiful Frontispiece, 160 pages, $0.75. 

“ This volume will supply a want in our Sunday-school 
Libraries, to which the Religious Press has called attention 
— books of a more devotional and evangelical character. 
The Wilmer Family is characterized by all that makes the 



2 


* Schoenberg Cotta Family ’ so univeually attractive. * * * 
We can confidently recommend this book, translated with 
all elegance of diction, and with all the warmth and pathos 
of the German heart. * * * All classes will be instructed 
and elevated by this kind of literature. It has charms for 
the youthful and the mature, and will profit every one.” — 
Mrs, E. B. S. 


“IN THE MIDST OFTHE NORTH SEA.” 

From the German of Marie Roskowska, by 
J. F. Smith, Esq. 

16mo, Cloth, Two Engravings, $0.75. 

A story of life upon one of the lonely little islands (or 
Halligen) lying in the North Sea off the German coast. 
The loneliness and the dangers accompanying a residence 
upon these barren, marshy spots, are dramatically described, 
and the characteristics of the two families are painted most 
naturally. The incidents of “ Lost in the Fog,” “ The 
Shipwreck,” and “The Inundation,” are full of interest; 
and the earnest piety that pervades the narrative will recom- 
mend it to any Christian family or Sabbath School. The 
tale is full of excitement, and yet is anything but sensational. 


“ANTON, THE FISHERMAN.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by Mrs. M. A. 

Manderson. 

16mo, Cloth. Three Fine Original Engravings, $0.85. 

“ A very interesting story of humble life, illustrating do- 
mestic happiness, and the prevalence of industry, manliness, 
and integrity — together with the providential deliverances 
that sometimes occur in the midst of the trials that beset 
the believing poor.” — The Lutheran and Missionary , 
Fhiladelphia. 


3 


“Anton, the Fisherman.” — “We call the special at- 
tention of the public to this beautiful book, just issued 
by the Lutheran Board of Publication. It is from the 
famous Hoffmann of Dresden, who has won a world-wide 
fame as the writer of popular stories for the young. The 
translation is so natural and graceful, that no one would 
suspect its German origin. The book is in the best style 
of book-making, and has elicited universal admiration. 
Let the Church encourage our publications, with a prompt, 
cheerful, and generous patronage .” — Lutheran Observer. 


“Rene, the Little Savoyard.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by J. F. Smith, Esq. 
16mo, Cloth, Two Excellent Original Engravings, $0.85. 

« I have just read with great pleasure, * Rene,’ in your 
very attractive Fatherland Series. It is a brilliant little 
story, and is well translated. The children (and their 
parents) will be delighted with these pure and beautiful 
books, which I hope may have the wide circulation they 
deserve.” Yours, C. P. Krauth. 


“FRITZ; OR, FILIAL LOVE.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by M. A. Manderson. 
16mo, Cloth, One First Class Original Engraving, $0.65. 

“A charming story, founded upon the life of one of 
Frederick the Great’s generals. The healthy pious tone 
that pervades the book, as well as the literary merit, should 
recommend it to every family and Sunday-school Library. 
We venture to say that no boy will read this pleasant nar- 
rative without wishing to know more of Prussia’s great 
king. 


4 


“GEYER WALTY; 

OR, FIDELITY REWARDED.” 

By Franz Hoffmann. Translated by M. A. M anderson. 

16mo, Cloth, Seven Superior Original Engravings, 

drawn by D. R. Knight, Esq., and engraved by Van Ingen & Snyder, in 
their very best manner, and printed on the best quality of plate paper. 

We have no fear, in offering this beautiful book to our 
patrons, that they will not be pleased with it, either in a 
literary or artistic point of view. Geyer Walty is a sturdy, 
healthy story, worth reading by young or by old, and will 
bear comparison with the best tales of its class. No pains 
have been spared upon this volume, the translation and en- 
gravings being all original , and of the most expensive 
character. 

The present book is the last of the first set of the Fa- 
therland Series. The 6 volumes will be put up in an 
extra neat case , and will be sold at $5.00, including the box. 

Other Volumes are in preparation, and will be pub- 
lished as rapidly as possible. We trust that in future The 
Lutheran Church will feel that the interests of our 
Sunday Schools will not be neglected. 

We call upon the entire Church to aid us in our efforts. 

The Board of Publication have entered upon this under- 
taking by no means unadvisedly. Co-operating with numer- 
ous German scholars well read in this class of literature, 
we have selected a series of works to be published as 
rapidly as circumstances will permit — works that will 
surely commend themselves to all interested in the Sunday 
School and the family. 

The genuine religious sentiment, the touching pathos, the 
heartsomeness, as well as the dramatic interest of these 
stories of Hoffmann, of Horn, and of kindred writers, are 
well known to the German reader; and we trust by oui 


5 


translations to make German thought better known to the 
youthful English reader, whom we hope to familiarize with 
scenes and incidents of the Fatherland. 

We ask the kind consideration and countenance of the 
Book Trade generally, but particularly of those engaged 
in the publishing and sale of Sunday-school books. 

We add a few of the many flattering notices we have 
received from our friends. 

The Fatherland Series. From the German. Phila- 
delphia: Lutheran Board of Publication. — “Under this 
title the Lutheran Board of Publication have begun what 
promises to be an interesting and useful series of Sunday- 
school books. They comprise translations from some of 
the best German writers for the young, carefully selected 
from an evangelical stand-point, with a view to make Ger- 
man thought better known to English youthful readers, and 
to familiarize them with the scenes and incidents of German 
life. The two volumes just issued are entitled, ‘In the 
Midst of the North Sea,’ and ‘Anton, the Fisherman.’ 
Both are interesting, capital books, having a good deal of 
dramatic power, and pervaded by a beautiful Christian 
fa.th and simplicity. The first named shows the sad evils 
of an envious, jealous spirit; and the last is a testimony 
to the sure word of Scripture, * Trust in the Lord and do 
good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt 
be fed .’” — The Sunday-school Times. 

Lawrence , Kansas , March I, 1870. 

“Your books lately published, ‘In the Midst of the 
North Sea,’ and ‘Anton, the Fisherman,’ are first rate, and 
with such books your reputation will soon be established. 
I am well pleased with your commendable efforts and 
success in go I ting out good books. 

“ Yours, H. B. Belmer.” 


6 


New Middletown , March 2, 1870. 

“ I received ‘ In the Midst of the North Sea,’ sent by 
you a couple of weeks since. Thank you for your kindness 
in sending it. Have read it carefully. Am highly pleased 
with it. Think it a perfect gem for the Sabbath School. 
Besides many other valuable lessons, it clearly exhibits the 
hand of Providence in the preservation of the Islanders. 

“ Yours, J. B. Miller.” 

Bainbridge , Pa., March 7, 1870. 

“ I have read * Anton,’ and am even better pleased with 
it than I was with ‘ In the Midst of the North Sea.’ Good, 
better. I am, truly and fraternally, 

« Yours, F. T. Hoover.” 

New Germantown, March 15, 1870. 

“ The publications you send me are admirable every way 
and I only wish I could sell many of them for you. 

“Yours, J. C. Duy.” 

Sharpsville , Tipton Co., Ind., March 20, 1870. 

“ I hereby acknowledge the receipt of two volumes of 
your Sunday-school Publications, * North Sea,’ and ‘Anton.’ 
i have hastily perused these little narratives, and find them 
very interesting and spicy, and can heartily recommend 
them to the Sabbath School and the public generally, as 
safe companions for both young and old. 

“ A. H. Scherer.” 

Harrisburg, March 29, 1870. 

“‘How do I like the series?’ Well, really, I hardly 
know how to express myself; but I have a little four-year* 
old chip of the old block, who, when anything pleases 
him very mu h, says, ‘ Do it again,’ Now, that is just what 


7 

1 say to the publisher and the translator : Do it again, and 
you do the Church good. 

“ Fraternally yours, Jno. J. Rebman.” 

Croton Landing , March 30, 1870. 

“I am very much pleased with your ‘Fatherland 
Series.’ Yours, truly, W. B. Askam.” 

College Hilly O., March 30, 1870. 

“ Enclosed pleased find 85 cents for Ren^, which I read 
with zest, and think it to be a good book for our American 
youth. Yours in X., J. C. Brodfuehrer.” 

Newtony Iowa , April 7, 1870. 

“ Your new books, translations from the German, are 
highly popular. Go on with the good work. We are glad 
to get them as fast as published. 

“Yours in Gospel bonds, H. S. Cook.” 

Smithsburg, Md., April 2, 1870. 

“ The books are beautiful and good. 

“ Yours, L. J. Bell.” 

Orangeville , ///., April 2, 1870. 

“ I have just received yours of 25th ult., together with 
the book you sent by mail. I have received three — * North 
Sea,* ‘Anton,* and ‘Rene,’ which, by the way, are the. 
most excellent Sunday-school books I have ever had the 
pleasure to examine, and I thank God that our Publication 
Society has the honor of bringing them before the public. 

“ Yours, truly, J. K. Bloom.” 

Bainbridge, Pa., April 2, 1870. 

“ Our school here at B. has ordered a copy of each of 
the Fatherland Series. I have read the opening chapter 
of ‘ Ren£.’ Our librarian at Maytown, Mr. C. Peck, says 
it is the best Sunday-school book he has read for a long 
time. Yours, F. T. Hoover.” 


8 


York , Pa., April 4, 1870. 

‘‘Please send me ‘Cottage by the Lake.* The other 
volumes of the Fatherland Series I have. I am much 
pleased with the books. If you publish a thousand volumes, 
send them all to me, and draw on me for the amount they 
cost, J. H. Menges.” 

Lockport, April 9, 1870. 

“ Since I have three of the Series you are publishing at 
present, I would desire to have the first number — ‘The 
Cottage by the Lake.’ This number you have not sent me. 
Those you sent me I read with great interest, and am much 
pleased with them, and trust they may be largely circulated. 

“ Yours, truly, M. Ort.” 

Canton , O., April 4, 1870. 

“ Enclosed find the amount of your bill for the ‘ Father- 
land Series.’ The books are very interesting, and my 
children are delighted with them. 

‘‘Yours, L. M. Kuhns.” 

Harrisburg, April 7, 1870. 

‘Your book entitled ‘Fritz,’ is all right. Go ahead; 
the more of that kind you publish the better. 

“Yourj, fraternally, G. F. Stelling.” 

Selinsgrove, April 6, 1870. 

“ I am glad to see you bringing out such nice, neat books. 
You can send us one copy of all new publications until 
otherwise ordered. Consider us standing subscribers. 

“ Yours, J. G. L. Shindel.” 

Frostburg, Md ., April 6, 1870. 

“‘The Fatherland Series’ I am pleased with. They 
compare favorably with any of the publications of the day 
—are a credit to the Society. 

“ Yours, 


H. Bishop.” 









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